


Part 2 of Tara Firma

by RedxxWolf



Series: Tara Firma [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Abortion, Anal Sex, BDSM, Body Worship, Cheesy, Deviates From Canon, Drama & Romance, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Ghoul Sex, Kinky, Love, Multi, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape Roleplay, Romance, Sexual Experimentation, Smut, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 104,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedxxWolf/pseuds/RedxxWolf
Summary: Hancock and Scarlet travel to Diamond City.  In their search for her kidnapped son, they come across companions Cait and Nick Valentine.  John confronts some of the demons from his past, and Scarlet tries to confront her own fears of combat in the wasteland. I've taken a lot of liberties with questlines and timelines.  There is a LOT MORE SMUT than part one.  Things are gonna get shamelessly kinky.Completed, and just added an epilogue, too!  <3





	1. Great Green Jewel

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if you find the game dialogue boring, but I did tweak it somewhat to suit my storyline. As I was writing it, I got the vibe that this was a kind of slow start. Hopefully things will ramp up in the following chapters.

“What do you mean you can't open the gate? Stop playing around, Danny! I'm standing out in the open here, for crying out loud!”

 

Hancock and Scarlet stood some distance back underneath an overcast sky, watching the woman in the red leather jacket arguing animatedly with the intercom. The mammoth steel gate to Diamond City was closed, barring her and anyone else from getting through.

 

_“_ _I got orders not to let you in, Ms. Piper. I'm sorry. I'm just doing my job.”_

 

The woman didn't seem to accept the young man's excuse. She shook her head, the ends of her shoulder-length black hair swishing beneath her newsboy cap.

 

“Just doing your job? Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it? Oh look, it's the scary reporter! Boo!” Piper raised her arms and wiggled her fingers, as if the security guard could see her through the speaker.

 

 _“I'm sorry, but Mayor McDonough's really steamed, Piper. Sayin' that article you wrote was all lies. The whole city's in a tizzy.”_ He sounded genuinely remorseful, and with a little work, he probably could have been convinced to let her in.

 

But she was too impatient to plead with him. “Agh, you open this gate right now, Danny Sullivan! I live here! You can't just lock me out!” Piper gestured angrily at the intercom, then swiped her fist through the air before letting her arms fall to her sides. She sighed, turning away, then pulled a cigarette from her breast pocket. She inhaled sharply upon lighting it and began pacing in front of the gate.

 

Hancock and Scarlet shared a questioning look. They were both unsure whether or not to get any closer. “She looks pretty pissed,” Hancock mumbled under his breath.

 

Scarlet nodded in response. She crossed her arms and stared at Piper, who looked as if she were about to lash out at the next person she saw. They hung back awkwardly. They aimed to enter the city, too, but the agitated reporter was practically radiating her own force field.

 

As Piper paced back to the intercom and leaned against the wall, she honed in on the ghoul and the redhead who had been hovering in the background. She raised her brows at the sight of them and straightened her spine sharply. Glancing briefly to her left and right, she locked her eyes on them, then took a few cautious steps forward.

 

“Hey, you two,” she whispered loudly, motioning for them to come forward.

 

Scarlet arched an eyebrow at Hancock, who simply shrugged his shoulders. They weren't going to get anywhere just standing around. Tepidly, they began walking toward her, their posture stiff and guarded as they approached.

 

“You want into Diamond City, right?” Piper thumbed to the entrance behind her, her digits poking through her fingerless gloves.

 

Scarlet paused, wondering whether Hancock would answer the question. But he slid in behind her, flanking her at her left heel. Scarlet was nervous all of a sudden. She was used to him taking control of this sort of thing. But he was letting her take the lead, a position she wasn't entirely comfortable in out here. After all, she had only spent a few weeks in this new post-war wasteland. Two hundred years was a long time to be out of the loop, and she was always fearful of saying the wrong thing when she met new people.

 

“Uh... yeah. We want in,” Scarlet said hesitantly. Based on the conversation she had overheard, this woman was in some trouble. She wasn't sure if she should be too eager to associate with this hot-headed reporter.

 

Piper leaned forward, her voice still hushed. “I've almost got him. Just play along.”

 

Before Scarlet could agree or disagree to whatever scheme this was, Piper flicked her cigarette away and stood in front of the intercom once more. “What's that?” Her voice boomed into the speaker and she looked over her shoulder at Scarlet, giving her a wink. “You're a trader up from Quincy? You have enough supplies to keep the general store stocked for a whole month? Huh...”

 

Piper's dark brown eyes sparkled beneath the brim of her hat. Scarlet thought her delivery was a little too over-the-top, but she stayed silent and let her continue. “You hear that, Danny? You gonna open the gate and let us in, or are you gonna be the one talkin' to crazy Myrna about missing out on all the supply?”

 

_“Geez, all right. No need to make it personal, Piper. Give me a minute.”_

 

Piper rocked back on her heels, looking pretty pleased with herself as the solid steel gate was hoisted up vertically, revealing a row of broken turnstiles that marked the barrier of an old baseball stadium. “Better head inside quick before ol' Danny catches onto the bluff.”

 

“We don't have any supplies,” Scarlet told her uneasily. She didn't want to come into the city with the burden of a negative first impression, especially since she wasn't sure whose help she would have to procure once inside. The task of tracking down her missing child was already daunting enough, and she didn't need the enmity of the locals making it any more difficult.

 

“Don't worry about it,” Piper replied, whisking her hand through the air. “ _I'm_ the one they're tryin' to keep out. Trust me, no one's going to give you a second look when they see the big bad journalist coming back into town.”

 

Piper turned and strode through the partitioned gateway, Scarlet and Hancock trailing behind.

 

Waiting to greet them just inside was a chubby, middle-aged man in a dirty tan suit, with a crumpled fedora perched on his head. “Piper!” he yelled as she sauntered up to him. “Who let you back inside? I told Sullivan to keep that gate shut!” He glowered at the man in the security booth behind him before turning back to Piper, regarding her disdainfully.

 

The reporter said nothing, unfazed by his hostility, and walked right up to him until they were only a few short feet apart. Her nonchalance appeared to irk him more and he shook his fist, more out of frustration than actual threat. “You... devious, rabble-rousing slanderer!” His full face turned crimson, setting off the whiteness of his mustache. “The... the level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I'll have that printer scrapped for parts!”

 

“Ooh, is that a statement, Mr. McDonough?” she mocked. “Maybe it'll be my next headline. 'Tyrant Mayor Shuts Down the Press!'”

 

“This is my city,” he bit back. “I can't have you riling up the citizens with your... your baseless accusations!”

 

“It's called freedom of the press,” she asserted. “You might be the mayor, but I got my rights. And someone's got to be the one to tell the cold, hard truth.” Scarlet had been standing off to the side, awkwardly watching their exchange, when Piper suddenly turned to her. “What about you? Do you support the news?”

 

The mayor followed Piper's line of sight to the redhead, who was gaping at them silently. Checking behind her, Scarlet noticed that Hancock was still farther back, leaning against one of the vertical beams at the entrance with his head down, his fingers tugging against the foremost corner of his hat. She felt put on the spot and inched toward Piper and the Mayor, fidgeting with her hands as she tried to think of what to say.

 

“Well...” she began, her voice crackling to life. “The Constitution says that the government has no right to obstruct the press.” She hoped the neutrality of her tone was enough to satisfy the both of them. After all, she wasn't in on the specifics of the situation, and didn't want to start taking sides after she had just met these people.

 

“See!” Piper held her hand out flat, gesturing at the newcomer. “You got a problem with Publick Occurrences, go take it up with Thomas Jefferson.”

 

McDonough shook his head in disapproval and looked at Scarlet, softening his gaze. “I apologize, Miss. I didn't mean to bring you into this argument.” He straightened his tie and leaned forward, extending his hand. “Mayor McDonough. Welcome to Diamond City.”

 

Timidly, she reached out and grasped his hand. “Scarlet Wolf.”

 

His grip was gentle as he shook her hand, giving her an appreciative smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you.” He let go of her hand and held his arms open proudly. “This is the great green jewel of the Commonwealth. Safe. Happy. A fine place to come, spend your money, settle down. Don't let this muckraker here tell you otherwise.”

 

Piper cut in with a short “harumph,” crossing her arms.

 

“May I ask what brings you to our fine city?”

 

“I'm...” Scarlet began, letting her shoulders relax and her arms fall to her sides. He seemed kind enough, but her instincts told her to keep her answer vague. “I'm looking for someone.”

 

McDonough furrowed his brow in curiosity. “Looking for someone? Who?”

 

She sighed, knowing that if she was to make any progress, she needed to start opening up. All things considered, honesty was probably far more beneficial than secrecy. “My son, Shaun. He's less than a year old.”

 

“Do you hear that, McDonough?” Piper tapped her foot against the concrete, scowling at him as she spoke. “What's Diamond City going to do to help _this_ woman, huh? This isn't the first missing person's report to come through here, and now we've got an infant who's been taken-”

 

“Eh – don't listen to her,” McDonough cut her off. “While I am afraid our security team can't follow every case that comes through, I'm confident you can find help here. Diamond City has every conceivable service known to man. One of our great citizens can surely find the time to help you.”

 

“You must know someone who can help me.” Scarlet's eyes were wide and pleading, and she felt slightly embarrassed by how helpless she must have sounded.

 

McDonough frowned and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “Well...” he started reluctantly, “There is one private citizen. Nick Valentine. A... detective of sorts. He specializes in tracking people down, though it's usually for debts and whatnot. I'm sorry Diamond City Security doesn't have time to help, but I'm sure Mr. Valentine charges a reasonable fee.”

 

Piper growled audibly. She balled her hands into fists and threw them down, then sneered at McDonough with as much condemnation as she could manage. “This is ridiculous. Diamond City Security can't spare _one_ officer to help?” Her jaw tightened, and her voice became low and ominous behind her teeth. “I want the truth, McDonough. What's the real reason security never investigates any of these kidnappings?”

 

“I've had enough of this Piper!” McDonough threw his hands up, the last of his patience having finally run out. “From now on, consider you and that little sister of yours on notice.”

 

Piper was fed up as well. Sighing and thrusting her hands into her pockets, she stormed off, heading up the narrow corridor that led into the stadium stands. “Yeah, yeah, keep talking, McDonough. That's all you're good for.” Her voice echoed down the hallway behind her, fading into the air as she disappeared into the city.

 

“I do apologize for her,” McDonough said once Piper was safely out of earshot. “Should you have any other questions, you can take the elevator to my office. If I'm busy, feel free to leave a message with my secretary. Now please excuse me.” He bowed slightly and tipped his cap, then leisurely made his way along the same path Piper had followed.

 

Scarlet's head darted around, looking for Hancock. The ghoul was still hanging back, but began walking briskly toward her once McDonough made his exit. She exhaled deeply with relief as he rejoined her, then headed to the mouth of the tunnel that led into the stadium. Hancock followed her, but rather than standing at her side, he filed in directly behind her.

 

She found his behavior somewhat odd, but before she could ask him what he was doing, the two of them were halted by a security guard dressed in an umpire's uniform, who stepped forcefully into their path.

 

“Hold it,” the man said, raising his palm in front of him. Scarlet jumped a little, taken aback by the sharp and authoritative tone of his voice. “His kind's not allowed in Diamond City.”

 

Scarlet looked back at Hancock, whose eyes were glued to the floor, hands stuffed firmly in his pockets. Her forehead creased with confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

“Diamond City's got a strict no-ghouls-allowed policy,” the officer said flatly. “You can come in, but he's gonna have to wait outside.”

 

Scarlet's initial reaction was utter disbelief. In the short time she had been out of the vault, she had been exposed to every shady facet of humanity, from thieves to murderers, liars and rapists, raiders, and even the downright insane. Under the circumstances, none of these observations had really surprised her. Society as she knew it was gone. The few people eking out a living in this unforgiving wasteland were barely clinging to the shredded remains of law and order. An exaggerated level of chaos was to be expected.

 

But bigotry... With everything that had happened over the past two centuries, how could they possibly justify such moral corruption?

 

John's actions were clear to her now. He knew this was going to happen, and for whatever reason, he had neglected to warn her.

 

“It's all right, Sunshine,” he whispered, meeting her with his onyx eyes.

 

His voice was achingly soothing, wrapping around her heart like a satin ribbon, comforting and painful all at once. She shook her head in denial. She hadn't gotten this far, come all this way, only to have the only tether she possessed severed because of something so trivial as his appearance. “I'm not going in without you,” was her hushed reply.

 

“It's not up for negotiation.” He tried to sound remorseful, but a touch of bitterness bubbled its way through. “They kicked the ghouls out of here a long time ago.”

 

“You said you weren't going to leave me.” Scarlet's whisper was fierce as she snatched the lapel of his overcoat.

 

He could see the knotted blue and red cloth poking out beneath the Pip-Boy on her wrist. He knew full well that they would have to be separated, but she would be safe inside the city, and their parting would be temporary. He also knew that Nick Valentine was the best hope she had of getting a lead on her missing child, and he didn't want her to be deterred from her objective on account of his inability to follow her in.

 

“You'll be fine,” he assured her, smiling gently. He placed his hand over the top of hers, ushering her to release her grip. “Go see the detective. I'll be waiting right here for ya when you get done.”

 

Scarlet's head darted back and forth helplessly between Hancock and the guard who stood in her way. She couldn't figure out how to move forward from here. Desperately, she racked her brain for a solution. _Maybe I can sneak him in. Wait until night time. Get some kind of a disguise..._

 

McDonough was only a few feet ahead of them when they had been stopped. His interest was immediately piqued and he turned around, moseying his way behind the officer as he watched the scene unfold. He hadn't seen the ghoul tagging along with her, and his pairing with the pretty young woman was oddly curious.

 

“What's the trouble?” the mayor asked, standing safely behind the guard.

 

Scarlet let go of Hancock and whirled to face McDonough. “Please!” she implored, nearly flinging herself against the officer between them. “You have to let him in. I need him.”

 

He gave the girl a disconcerting look. “You _need_ him?”

 

“Yes,” she said, nodding vigorously. “He's my-”

 

“-Bodyguard,” Hancock interjected. He stepped out from behind Scarlet, revealing the full disfigurement of his face as he looked McDonough square in the eye. “She's payin' me good money to watch her back, and I'm not willing to give back all those caps.” He placed his hands on his hips and raised his chin, throwing his shoulders back confidently.

 

“Bodyguard?” McDonough didn't seem convinced. “Why does someone like you need a bodyguard?”

 

Scarlet went along with Hancock's ploy, though with as much truth as she could. She didn't care for deception, and especially loathed the idea of having to keep up some kind of charade just to have him with her. But she trusted him, and now that he had said it, she did her best to follow suit. “I'm from vault 111. I... I lived there my whole life. And when I left to look for my son I had to hire someone to help me. I hardly know anything about the Commonwealth. I didn't even know where I was going.”

 

McDonough put his hand up to his cleft chin and stroked it, considering her explanation. “I suppose no one warned you that it is unwise to associate with ghouls,” he scolded. “They're not exactly a trustworthy breed.”

 

Scarlet could almost feel the heat of Hancock's rage boiling next to her. His hairless brows were a hard line and cast a shadow over his eyes, barely concealing the anger he was struggling to contain.

 

“I'd be dead if it weren't for him,” she declared proudly. She found this whole ordeal to be sickening. Ghoul or not, Hancock was the finest example of humanity she had ever known, past or present. Regardless of his faults, he was so honorable Scarlet thought he bordered on sainthood. Trying to convince an entrenched bigot of his character would be a futile exercise, she knew, but she was prepared to say whatever she had to in order to grant the ghoul's entry.

 

McDonough frowned, shifting his gaze between Scarlet's wide blue eyes and the ghoul's soulless, black ones. Despite his policy, he had made exceptions on a few rare occasions. He wasn't so heartless that he didn't feel sorry for this woman, who had suffered the unforgiving wasteland to seek her missing child. And after she had witnessed his heated argument with Piper, he was concerned that she would have an unfavorable impression of Diamond City. Or worse, she wouldn't come in at all. If she had enough caps to hire a bodyguard, she certainly had enough to spend with the city's merchants.

 

“Very well,” he said, sighing with surrender. “I'll tell security to allow him to stay. But you are to supervise him at all times, otherwise I will be forced to remove him. Is that understood?”

 

Scarlet tried not to scoff. _Supervise him?_ Did McDonough assume Hancock was some kind of criminal? She wanted to debate the absurdity of the whole thing, but fought back the urge. At least they were going to let him in. Her head dipped in affirmation, and she smiled in spite of herself. “I understand.”

 

McDonough motioned the security guard to move to one side, allowing the pair to enter freely, but not without following them with his narrowed eyes. “Keep an eye on those two,” he said to the man, placing a hand on his padded shoulder. “I have a feeling they're not being completely honest.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Now what do we do?”

 

Scarlet leaned in, letting her head fall against Hancock's chest as she slid her arms around his waist. The tinkling of raindrops pattered against the metal awning above their heads as they stood outside Valentine's Detective Agency.

 

Hancock wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her in, resting his face against her hair. He took a moment to enjoy the light strawberry scent, then raised his chin to rest on the top of her head. “We go get him,” he said simply.

 

Scarlet would have cried if she wasn't so exhausted. After two days of walking, the last thing she expected to hear was that the one person with the expertise to find Shaun was himself missing. She dreaded the idea of a dangerous pursuit. Even though she was getting to be a pretty decent shot with her laser pistol, she had little confidence in her combat ability. Even with Hancock fighting at her side, she felt completely useless. She still panicked every time a gun was pointed in her direction, no matter how many times it had happened over the past few weeks. War was her former husband's arena. She didn't have the aptitude or the interest for it, but she was constantly being pushed into battle after battle. There was no end in sight, and she held out very little hope that she would ever become accustomed to it all.

 

“What if he's dead when we find him?” she asked, her voice trapped in the ruffles of his undershirt.

 

“Nicky's a friend of mine from way back. He's gotten himself into trouble before, but it was never anything he couldn't walk away from.”

 

The last bits of daylight shone dimly behind the clouds. Planning Nick's rescue would have to wait until morning. They were both in need of food and rest before they could do anything else.

 

“We should turn in,” he said. He placed his hands around her shoulders and guided her away from him, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Come on. I know where we can stay.”

 

She followed him out of the secluded entrance of the agency, reminding herself not to get too close. When they had first entered the marketplace, Scarlet instinctively reached for his hand. On their way to Diamond City that day, they had held onto each other in some fashion or another; for her part, she enjoyed the simplicity of holding his hand as they walked, her right in his left.

 

But Hancock had recoiled as soon as he felt her fingers brush against his. The hurt look on her face made him feel like he had a rock in his stomach. _“Sorry doll, but it's probably not a good idea. Gives the locals an excuse to harass us.”_

 

She knew he was probably right, but she couldn't conceal her disappointment, plodding through town after him with slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. Hancock knew the way through the city intimately. He had mentioned living here before moving to Goodneighbor, but didn't seem eager to discuss the details.

 

The mud of the unpaved alleyways squelched beneath their boots, and Scarlet's hair was getting damp from the constant drizzle. _I need a hat_ , she thought, feeling the familiar sting of sunburn on the end of her nose. Eventually, they wound their way to an establishment built into one of the stadium's old dugouts, aptly named the “Dugout Inn.”

 

“I hope the Bobrov brothers are still running the place,” he said, opening the door for her. “They're good people. And they make a damn good bottle of moonshine.”

 

“I could really use a drink,” said Scarlet, stepping in out of the rain and shaking the drops from her arms and legs. They both took a moment to dry off and wipe the mud from their boots, lingering by the entrance and stealing a quick peck on the lips while no one was watching. “Were you friends with them while you lived here?”

 

She meant the question innocently, but Hancock scowled as he considered his answer. He hadn't really thought of what it meant to come back to Diamond City after all these years, especially now, after he had become a ghoul. He would have never returned of his own accord, being here solely for Scarlet's sake. He had to remind himself of the same realization that hit him when he faced Mayor McDonough at the city gate. “Nobody's gonna recognize me.”

 

He said it to himself, but loud enough that Scarlet heard him clearly. “That's right...” She placed a temperate hand on his elbow, and her face was soft and sympathetic. She had to remind herself, as well, that he hadn't always been this way. “Do you think it'll be hard, having to explain it to everyone?”

 

“Honestly Sunshine, it'd be best if I didn't say anything. I didn't exactly leave on the best of terms, at least not with the more... uh... 'affluent' members of society.” She stared raptly at him, waiting for him to go on. “It's a long story,” he sighed, averting her eyes. “I'll tell you about it another day.”

 

Scarlet tried to suppress her curiosity for the time being. She still didn't know who he really was. The deepest into his past he had delved was ten years prior, when he first settled in Goodneighbor. She knew he would open up to her in his own time, but she was impatient, almost greedy, when she was aware of a secret. And this secret belonged to the man who had pledged his love to her just last night.

 

The two of them entered the lounge, the atmosphere warm and inviting. A hodgepodge of different couches and end tables were clustered in a cozy sitting area, and just beyond that was a bar, upon which sat an aging radio that squeaked out nostalgic melodies from the resident station. The crowd was sparse, but seemed friendly, only looking at the ghoul momentarily before going back to their drinks. The cursory glances were the best relief they could hope for after being leered at on the streets by the officers and most of the locals. No one had said anything yet, perhaps because of Scarlet's presence, but she definitely got the sense that Hancock wasn't welcome.

 

“Vadim, Vadim! I need to talk!” A tall, well-built man with olive skin and a patched three-piece suit walked up to the edge of the bar. He had a thick Eastern European accent, something Scarlet didn't think she'd hear in the middle of post-war Boston.

 

“Just a minute, Yefim. I am in middle of story,” answered the bartender, his accent equally as strong. He was obstructed by the patron standing in front of him, a slender man with a deep complexion, who was kitted out head to toe in some nice-looking armor.

 

As Scarlet drew nearer and the bartenders' features came into focus, she realized she was seeing double. The twin brothers had the same bulging adam's apples, the same buzzed black hair that pointed into a sharp widow's peak, the same large nose and angular jaw. They could only be told apart by what they wore; the bartender sported a padded blue jacket with a faux-fur collar. She and Hancock slid surreptitiously to a couple of bar stools on the other end, and Vadim went on.

 

“So then I am crossing river, right?” The black man in the armor nodded, drawing a large gulp from the mouth of his beer. “Wearing nothing but a smile. When out comes the most dangerous of all sea monsters, a mirelurk!”

 

“Uh-uh,” the man said, smacking his lips after downing more of his beverage. “A mirelurk? Come on!” He waved his hand incredulously. “That's like, two out of ten points of danger. Tops. Now if you wanna talk about something really deadly...”

 

“Vadim!” The twin in the suit shouted through their brief break in conversation. His lips were flat and sternly set. One of his hands was in a fist pressed against his hip, and the other clutched the end of a dirty washrag.

 

“Oh. I forgot you were there, Yefim. What is it?” He didn't bother looking at his brother, and instead rolled his eyes as he polished a shot glass.

 

Yefim sighed, raising a shielding hand in front of his face. “You know what? Never mind. I'll handle it myself.” He turned on his heel and walked away, muttering something unintelligible.

 

Vadim had noticed the two newcomers taking a seat at the bar. He excused himself from the man in front of him and sauntered over, tossing a damp towel from hand to hand. “You want something to drink?” he asked, his eyes lingering on Hancock.

 

Hancock nudged Scarlet gently with his elbow, prompting her to order for the both of them. “Um, I'll have a whiskey, and he'll have rum.”

 

The bartender pulled two dingy tumblers from a shelf below the bar, setting them down gingerly in front of the pair. “I heard there was a new woman in town, with red hair and glasses,” he said, grabbing two brown bottles from the cabinet behind him. “And she brought with her a ghoul bodyguard.”

 

“You heard right,” she said matter-of-factly, watching the liquor splash into the glass before her.

 

“I never have any problem with ghouls. But the mayor, he has something against them.” Vadim left the bottles on the bar uncapped, ready with a refill as they simultaneously took their drinks in one swallow. “How did you convince McDonough to let him in with you?”

 

She grimaced at the harshness of the alcohol as it burned its way down her throat, then relaxed following the soothing warmth that filled her veins. “Well, apart from not wanting to waste my caps, I've got to have someone around who knows what they're doing.” She held up her left arm and tapped the Pip-Boy on her wrist. “Fresh out of the vault.”

 

Vadim nodded in understanding, pouring them each another drink. “You need a bodyguard just to keep someone from stealing that Pip-Boy.” He leaned over the bar, a friendly smile on the corners of his lips. “May I ask, why would you want to leave the vault? The Commonwealth is so dangerous, so harsh.” He raised a finger, gesturing to either side of her face. “If you are not careful, you will be as red as your ghoul friend from the sun.”

 

“My son was kidnapped.” The explanation came easy, perhaps because she was already halfway into her second drink, or perhaps because she had said it so many times that she was becoming numb to it.

 

Vadim's smile disappeared. “I'm sorry.” He looked away, busying himself with wiping out glasses.

 

“I came here hoping I could meet someone who would help me. But the detective's gone missing, too.”

 

“Yes, I heard. Now we need a detective to find the detective.”

 

“I'm gonna have to try and find him. He may be the only one out here who can help me.”

 

“Well young lady, I wish you the best of luck. It is a tragedy to lose one's child. May you be reunited with him soon.”

 

Scarlet raised her glass to Vadim, acknowledging the kindness of his words. Even the smallest bit of compassion did wonders for her spirit, temporarily patching the emotional wounds that tormented her on a daily basis.

 

As the two finished their second drink, Hancock decided to speak up. He was feeling comfortable, despite his ghoulness, and he was eager to taste the famous home-brewed liquor that he had enjoyed many years ago. He wondered if it would still taste the same. “Hey, you got your own moonshine you bottle in-house, right?”

 

Scarlet watched Vadim, who seemed thunderstruck at the sound of the ghoul's voice. He stared hard at Hancock for a moment, and several thoughtful creases lined his forehead. He looked like he was caught in a trance, zeroing in on the ghoul's face.

 

Hancock looked down into his glass. He could tell the bartender wasn't trying to be rude, but his scrutinizing glare made him uncomfortable.

 

Vadim cleared his throat, as if suddenly remembering where he was. “Uh, yes!” he declared, rather loudly. “Bobrov's Best. It is the finest moonshine you will ever have the pleasure of drinking.” He bent down, fishing out a frosted glass bottle from beneath the bar. The transparent liquor sloshed in its container as he held it up proudly.

 

“Let's have some,” said Scarlet affably. She pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pack at her feet and placed it on the bar, then pulled one out and placed the filtered end between her lips. Hancock mirrored her, taking out his own pack as Vadim slid an ashtray and two shot glasses down the bar.

 

The cork came out with a resonant pop and the bartender poured cautiously, filling the miniature glasses about halfway. “First taste is on the house. You like it, you can buy bottle.” He licked his lips, then hastily grabbed another shot glass and poured a sample for himself. “It is so good, even I cannot resist.”

 

The three of them clinked glasses and tossed their heads back. Scarlet watched Vadim out of the corner of her eye, who in turn was taking every available opportunity to sneak a glance at Hancock. _For someone who 'never had any problem with ghouls,' he's pretty damn impolite._

 

Hancock had his eyes shut as he savored the taste, letting the memory of it wash over him. It was even better than he had remembered, sweeter somehow, smoother. They had probably improved the recipe over the years. As the finish plucked his taste buds, he expired a gratified breath. “Tastes like home,” he mumbled.

 

“John?”

 

Vadim leaned in, capturing Hancock's attention. The ghoul's eyes snapped open at the nearness of his face, and he stiffened his back at the sudden invasion of his personal space.

 

The bartender was awash with pure shock. His jaw hung open in disbelief, and he struggled to speak. “Is that you, John?”

 

Hancock pulled the corner of his hat down, partially concealing his face. “I think you got me confused with someone else,” he said. “We ain't ever met before.”

 

“John McDonough!” Vadim slapped his palms against the bar, and the shock wave of the hit rattled through the glassware. “It is you! I know it!”

 

Hancock bolted up from the bar stool, nearly knocking it over, and grabbed the bartender by the collar of his undershirt. “Keep it down!” His teeth were clenched menacingly as he pulled the man's face toward his.

 

“I never thought I'd see you again!” Vadim grinned wide, despite being uncomfortably ensnared by the ghoul.

 

“It's John Hancock, now,” he said insistently. “And you can't tell anybody I'm here, you got that?”

 

“Alright, alright my friend!” Vadim lowered his voice and pulled at Hancock's wrist, prompting the ghoul to slowly release his collar. “I'm just so happy to see you. Yefim and I, and most of the others, we thought you were dead a long time ago.”

 

“Well, you're partially right.” Hancock reached behind him and pulled the stool back over, slumping down on it with a sigh.

 

“Why are you a ghoul now? What happened?”

 

Hancock retrieved the half-finished cigarette he had abandoned in the ashtray, puffing it back to life. “Experimental chems,” he said tersely.

 

Vadim chuckled lowly. “That does sound like you.”

 

“I gotta keep a low profile, alright?” He thought the bartender was still a little too wound up, and he didn't want to draw any more attention than he already had. “I don't want the mayor knowing I'm here. Things might end up bad for me if he finds out.”

 

Vadim shook his head. He seemed to be floating back down to earth, and poured each of them another shot of moonshine. “He saw you today, yes? He does not even recognize his own brother?”

 

Hancock rubbed his fingertips against his temple, working through his own bewilderment. “I don't know how the fuck _you_ recognized me. Ain't nothin' left of the old John. Not even my voice.”

 

“Call it a lucky guess.” He helped himself to his drink, sucking it down and taking a satisfied breath. “But remember, you were in my bar almost every night. I know the way you sit. And you are in the same spot, even, and always with the pretty girls.”

 

The bartender winked at Scarlet, who would have blushed if her cheeks weren't already reddened from the sun. She was absorbing every bit of their conversation in spellbound silence. Several missing pieces from John's life were finally falling into place, not the least of which being his real name. _The mayor is his brother?_ The revelation came with a dozen other questions, but it answered a lot of them, too. Some things, at least, were beginning to make sense.

 

“This girl's the reason I'm here.” John glanced at Scarlet, briefly capturing her eyes before re-focusing on Vadim. “She really is trying to find her kid, so I'd appreciate it if you kept your god damn mouth shut. I can't help her if you blow my cover.”

 

“Can I at least tell Yefim? He will be so happy to know you are alive!”

 

“If you have to tell someone, go ahead. I trust him to keep quiet more than you.”

 

In spite of the criticism, Vadim was beaming. His grin was infectious and Scarlet smiled too before taking a small sip of moonshine. “You are John's woman, then?” he asked her.

 

Scarlet buried her face in her hands. Maybe it was the moonshine, but something about that question made her extremely giddy, and she was overcome with a strange shyness. She rested her elbows on the bar and peeked at the two of them through the slits of her fingers.

 

They were clearly amused, which only deepened her bashfulness. John rested his cheek against his hand, trying to coax an answer out of her with his self-assured smile. She lowered her hands, revealing the top part of her face, but she kept her palms clamped against her mouth, like it was the only barrier that kept the dam inside her from bursting.

 

She looked at John, then Vadim. “Mmhmm,” was her dampened response, and her head went up and down almost imperceptibly.

 

John's grin was ear-to-ear, and he hooked his fingers under the lip of her bar stool, shifting it a little closer with a noisy skid. “I hope I didn't embarrass you, Sunshine,” he said fondly, his voice deep and breathy. She shuddered a little as the sound tingled its way down her spine.

 

“Give me moment,” Vadim said excitedly. “I must find my brother. You wait here.”

 

John and Scarlet shared a flirtatious glance as the bartender ran off. The armored patron who had been at the bar before had made his way into the lounge, and the two of them were somewhat alone. He would have kissed her if he dared, but held himself back. He would have to wait until later to satisfy his craving for her lips.

 

“So, the mayor of Goodneighbor is the brother of the mayor of Diamond City?” she asked, tracing a finger stealthily over his knee. She couldn't resist the urge to touch him, knowing that she shouldn't be. “And he's a ghoul-hater, too.”

 

“I was gonna tell ya eventually.” He held onto the edge of the bar, fighting the urge to take her in his arms. Somehow, the series of unintended announcements about his past had manifested into a playful mood between the two of them, due in large part to Vadim's comment about her being 'John's woman.' And, he was grateful that Scarlet didn't appear phased by all the new, and somewhat bizarre information. “That's not exactly how I wanted you to find that stuff out.”

 

“Don't feel too bad,” she chided. “There's still a lot you haven't told me.”

 

“I'll tell you anything you wanna know,” he said, the buttery richness of his voice melting with a sweet sincerity. “All you gotta do is ask.”

 

Scarlet was grateful nobody was around as she was unable to pry her eyes away from his magnetic stare. It was like losing herself in two abyssal pools of utter blackness, and they entranced her the way no other eyes ever could. The background noise seemed to melt into nothingness, creating a perfect moment in space where she could just appreciate him. She loved the way his burned flesh stretched over the bones of his face, highlighting every masculine angle of his rugged jaw and cheekbones, his deep-seated eye sockets buried under a strong, purposeful brow.

 

He was handsome, and if anyone else failed to recognize it, it just gave her room for more adoration. Her heart flipped in somersaults with the ongoing realization that he loved her, and she him, and she felt so damn lucky to have been the victim of a cryogenic experiment, thrust two hundred years into the future, and spit out upon the dust-caked ruins, because it had all led her to him.

 

A deep, guttural gurgle ripped through Scarlet's abdomen, so loud that it completely obliterated the daydreaming cloud she was floating on. She wrapped her arm around her stomach, erupting in a bout of nervous giggles.

 

Hancock laughed boisterously. “Damn, I didn't know the human body could make those kinda sounds.”

 

“I haven't eaten all day!” she said defensively, punching him playfully in the arm.

 

“Better get you something to eat before you end up digesting your insides. Then I'll talk to Vadim, see what we can do about getting us a room for the night.”

 

He raised his eyebrow suggestively as he said it, and a spike of arousal shot through Scarlet's core. She bit her lip and looked away reflexively. Her insides ached with pleasure at his implication, and she hoped that the weariness in her bones could be staved off long enough to enjoy him that evening before exhaustion claimed her.


	2. The Suite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Run-of-the-mill smut followed by fluff.

“That was nice of them to give us the room. They must really like you.”

 

Scarlet took her time peeling off the pieces of her armor, stretching her aching muscles as she did. She was surprised at how clean the room was. Based on her limited experience, she hadn't come to expect much when it came to sleeping accommodations. A dusty mattress on the floor would have been sufficient.

 

But the bed was luxuriously tall and wide. A clean, thick comforter of silvery gray was draped over a set of crisp floral sheets with matching pillowcases. There was a working lamp on the nightstand with a fringed yellow shade, a dresser that was still shiny with varnish, and a plush sofa with brick-red upholstery that was largely unblemished.

 

“Yeah, well it wasn't entirely out of the goodness of their hearts.” Hancock shrugged off his long red overcoat and hooked it on a nearby rack. “Vadim knows if I stay here, I'm gonna drink here. The Bobrov brothers will get a pretty good return on the investment.” His lips turned up into a warm, nostalgic smile as he removed his hat, hanging it over his coat.

 

Scarlet sat down on the bed with the intention of removing her boots, but the softness was irresistible and she flopped back with a sigh, leaving her feet dangling over the side. “This is so nice...” she said with a satisfied groan.

 

“It oughta be. It's their 'suite.'”

 

Hancock watched Scarlet as he casually removed his shirt, his eyes drawn to the peaceful rise and fall of her chest. The buttons of her flannel seemed to strain against her full breasts. It was enough to send a fresh pulse of blood into his loins, and he was tempted to leap on top of her and rip the garment to shreds.

 

“I'm just gonna lay here for a minute.” She stretched her arms out and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of her body being comfortably supported.

 

After taking off his own shoes, Hancock knelt at her feet and began untying the laces of her combat boots. “Thank you,” said Scarlet as he slipped one off.

 

“I'm just being selfish, really.” Even with her eyes closed she could hear the playful smirk in his voice. “All these clothes are in my way.”

 

She grinned and nestled into the blankets, gratefully allowing him to do the work of undressing her. After her shoes, he reached up to her face and gently removed her glasses, placing them on the nightstand. Then he unfastened her Pip-Boy, laying it next to them. Turning his attention to her legs, he ran his hands up along her thighs before unfastening the button of her pants and peeling them off. He unbuttoned her shirt and slipped her limp arms through the sleeves, and she lifted her back just enough so that he could pull it out from beneath her.

 

Hancock took a step back, taking a moment to admire his work as he began untying the flag from around his waist. She was down to her bra and underwear, her ivory skin radiant in the dim lamplight. His cock twitched and pulsed against the zipper of his pants and he hastily removed them, allowing his member to swell unrestrained.

 

A low growl rumbled in his chest and he came back over to the bed, gently moving her legs apart and leaning into the mattress between them. Placing his palms on either side of her head, he bent over her, bestowing a slow, lingering kiss on her waiting lips.

 

His mouth pulsed around hers, grabbing at her lips, simply enjoying their warm softness. Scarlet stayed immobile and relaxed, and not just because she was tired; she liked the way he loomed over her, the way she was allowing him to take control, and relished the indulgent effect of letting go.

 

But as the heat of his stiffening cock met the flesh of her inner thigh, she let out a heavy, despondent sigh. Even though her spirit was more than willing, she couldn't pretend she wasn't worn out. “I don't now how much use I'm going to be,” she said, opening her tired eyes just enough to meet his. “My legs are killing me.” She groaned and rolled her head to the side. “I'm still not in very good shape yet.”

 

“It's okay,” he said, planting a moist kiss against her ear. He pulled away and stood up, still positioned between her thighs. Then, he reached down and took hold of her left leg, raising it up until her ankle rested on his broad shoulder. Scarlet watched as he wrapped his scarred fingers around her shin and pulsed the heels of his hands into her calf muscle.

 

“Mmm!” She tossed her head back and shut her eyes again, overcome with relief as he worked his way over the sore limb. “Oh my god, that feels so good. You have no idea...”

 

Hancock gave a throaty chuckle, unable to ignore the eroticism of her satisfied moans. As he made his way past her bent knee and began massaging the flesh of her thighs, his expanding cock nestled into the crease of her hip. Scarlet unconsciously rolled her pelvis forward. His breath noticeably hitched at the feeling of her warmth moving against his shaft.

 

Despite his readiness, he took his time, ensuring every inch of muscle had been thoroughly kneaded before lowering her leg back over the edge of the bed.

 

“Can you take off my underwear, please?” Her voice was low in her throat, weary, but also tinged with desire.

 

Hancock wordlessly complied, dragging her panties down along her legs and stooping as he pulled them off over her feet. Taking the opportunity of his position, he gently pushed her thighs apart, dropping a few soft kisses just outside her opening. Suppressing the urge to devour her right then and there, he took her right leg over his shoulder, beginning the treatment he had given the other.

 

“Sorry my legs are so hairy,” Scarlet mumbled, peeking at him under her heavy lids. She hadn't gotten the opportunity to shave since leaving the vault. Although her fair complexion made her leg hair hardly visible, it was still getting uncomfortably long. She wondered if she'd ever have the opportunity to shave them again.

 

“People don't really bother with shit like that anymore,” he said matter-of-factly. “You won't find me complainin'. You're still the smoothest thing I ever felt.”

 

Her skin prickled with goosebumps at his words. He was agonizingly sweet, and when he said things like that it practically made her melt. She couldn't remember the last time someone had made her feel so good, inside and out.

 

The head of his cock nudged against her folds as he worked his way down her thigh. Her pussy lips were pink and swollen, opening up like a flower to his probing warmth. A drop of precum oozed from his tip. His cock slipped along her folds from his own lubrication until it nestled just outside her center. He could feel the slickness of her own arousal, ready to take him at the slightest nudge of his hips.

 

Scarlet's sighs of relief from the massage began to quicken into lustful pants. Hancock slowly went on with his caresses, drawing it out, enjoying the steady mounting of her desire as he rested tantalizingly outside of her twitching pussy. She wriggled a little against his cock, anxious for him to fill her. But he held back, getting a slight thrill out of denying her what she wanted.

 

He had finished rubbing her leg, but withheld himself from entering her. Instead, he shifted his hips from side to side, brushing over her, spreading their combined fluids around her opening. Scarlet whimpered with each torturous movement. She wanted him to thrust into her aching pussy, to satisfy the craving for his rigid cock to impale her, to feel him so deep that he was straining against her womb.

 

“Please...” she whispered. Her body was still lifeless against the bed, but her longing eyes begged him beneath fluttering lashes.

 

Hancock bent his knees and retrieved her other leg until they were both positioned over his shoulders. He gripped her ankles and readied himself at her opening, locking eyes with her as he leaned in, slipping just a few inches inside.

 

Scarlet inhaled sharply as he penetrated her. He almost moaned himself but steadied his breaths. He wanted to hear every sound she made. He slowly withdrew from her, exiting completely before re-entering. He went just slightly deeper this time before pulling out again and sliding the head of his cock along her slit.

 

He had only given her a taste, and he smiled at the way it was obviously driving her crazy. Her head rolled side to side, hot pants of need racking her lungs. He pushed his upper body forward, bringing her extended legs along with him. Scarlet sighed, simultaneously enjoying the stretching of her tight hamstrings while he ran his cock up and down over her throbbing clit.

 

Hancock hunched over until Scarlet's legs were nearly back behind her head. Settling on his forearms, he looked down to assess his position as he prepared to take her. Her exposed pussy was pointed upward, following the curve of her back as it raised off the mattress. The lips were plump and glistening with moisture, and they parted temptingly around her center.

 

He turned his attention back to her face. She ran her tongue over her lips in anticipation, but her eyes were still closed and her head laid listlessly to the side. But Hancock wanted to see her, and wanted her to see him. He wanted to take all of her, body, mind, and soul. He wanted to know that he was the only one she saw when he made love to her. He wanted to possess her completely.

 

With a firm hand, he took her by the chin, guiding her face to his.

 

“Look at me.”

 

Scarlet's eyes fluttered open, and her heart pounded at the rumble of his soft yet forceful command. His charcoal eyes were fixed on her, serious and resolute in the dimness.

 

With her baby blue orbs open wide and unwavering, he entered her, sliding in until he was buried to the hilt within her core. He sucked a breath through his teeth but never looked away, capturing the combination of pleasure and surrender that had washed over her features. She was so beautiful when he was filling her, when she gave her body up to him.

 

Scarlet gasped as her walls stretched around his thickness. She felt the head of his cock pushing against her cervix, threatening to tear her in half if it went in any further. Her breath caught in her throat and her mouth went agape. Struggling to hold on, she did her best to relax and succumb to his searing invasion. With her legs held by the barrier of his shoulders and nothing to grab onto, she was helpless to his will. And she loved it.

 

His thrusts began slowly, leisurely sliding in and out. He kissed her, starting tenderly, building the pressure against her lips until her mouth was open to him, inviting him to explore it with his sweeping tongue. She made only the tiniest noises, barely perceptible, as he circled his tongue around hers. Even against his mouth she barely moved, letting him enjoy her as he wished. He found her stillness to be enticingly demure and coquettish, and it only fanned the flames of his lust while he continued plundering himself into her depths.

 

Scarlet had been gradually inching back on the bed from the force of his thrusts until he was craned forward as far as he could manage, laboring to continue filling her with every inch of his cock. Once he could no longer push himself all the way in without toppling over, he stood back, pulling his pulsating organ out of her warmth, a long strand of clear fluid connecting his tip to her opening.

 

Scarlet began to relax her legs, but Hancock caught them, wrapping his hands around her thighs and hooking his arms under her knees. Lifting and pulling, he dragged her toward him until her bottom was perched right at the edge of the bed, her pussy now deliciously poised and easily accessible for his impending onslaught.

 

She gasped as he gripped her legs and rammed his way in, pulling her as hard as he could onto his rock-hard shaft until she could see the tip of his cock stretching the skin beneath her naval. Her eyes raked over his naked body, transfixed on the bulging muscles of his biceps and shoulders. His abs were taught and tense, contracting with every thrust.

 

Over and over he drove himself into her. She felt his balls, slathered with her own sweet juices, slapping against her ass as he increased his speed. Each smack of skin was accentuated by Scarlet's short, soft squeaks of pleasure.

 

He felt her inner walls tightening around him and watched her eyebrows knitting as she climbed closer to the edge. Her breasts, still constrained by her bra, were bouncing in time with his eager pace and threatened to escape. Hancock reached up with both hands and pulled down the cups, freeing them for his viewing pleasure. He took a moment to brush his fingertips along her erect nipples and down the sides of her stomach before replacing them around her legs.

 

His grip tightened with renewed vigor and his thrusts became wild. He could feel the pressure building in his loins, the tightening of his balls as they ached for release. Hancock slid his right hand down to her folds, making sure to keep her leg locked against him, and sought out her clit with his thumb.

 

The motion of his finger against the sensitive nub pushed her to the very limit of her desire until there was nowhere else for it to go. All the air in her lungs escaped in one low, unbridled moan. Her entire core contracted, clenching his cock with an incredible force, the entrance to her womb spasming against its head.

 

Her eyelids sealed together again as her climax roared through her. He knew she hadn't broken her eye contact on purpose, but he lamented losing the element of control. Hancock gritted his teeth, pumping his hips furiously, on the verge of losing it himself.

 

“Say my name.”

 

He wanted to know she was present in the moment, that he still had her. That she was his.

 

“John...” Her voice was husky and strangled as she rode pulse after pulse of her orgasm. She was paralyzed by pleasure, the only movement being the involuntary contractions of her quivering cunt.

 

Hancock tossed his head back, a primal groan spilling from his panting lips. He felt the first wave of cum spurting from the head of his cock and he slowed his thrusts, timing them with every shot. He felt like he'd never stop coming. She was already filled to capacity by his massive erection, and his spurts of fluid gushed back over him until a stream of white trickled out of her opening, funneling slowly from her pussy down the cleft of her ass.

 

After the last of his seed had emptied from his balls, the last of his strength seemed to go with it. He lowered her legs, letting them fall back over the edge of the bed. He nearly crashed on top of her as he slid his fingers around the back of her neck and kissed her. Hancock tried to convey his elation with his mouth, sucking on her tongue and biting her bottom lip as his softening cock twitched within her.

 

Scarlet draped her arms lazily over his neck. What little energy she had to begin with was spent on the effort of her orgasm, and she felt like she was about to pass out. As he broke the kiss, she smiled up at him as wide as she could manage, gazing into his black eyes with worshipful adoration.

 

John grinned back at her, pressing his forehead against hers, and withdrew his cock, pulling a flood of his creamy effluence with him.

 

They remained that way for several minutes. Neither one of them wanted to move, in part to continue their intimacy, but also due to sheer exhaustion. If they had lingered a minute longer, it was possible that they could have fallen asleep in their positions. But Scarlet grudgingly rolled out from beneath him, walking to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

 

John turned down the blanket and crawled into bed. Hearing the flush of the toilet he lit two cigarettes, and held one out to her as she returned, sliding into bed next to him and pulling up the covers. He placed an ashtray on the bed between them and propped himself up on his side, staring at her fondly as she lay her head against the pillow.

 

“You're incredible,” she said with a smile, exhaling a long stream of smoke. She turned to face him and ashed her cigarette. Her hair had all but escaped from the bun she wound it in, frizzy tresses falling out in every direction.

 

“Likewise,” he crooned. He was grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

 

“You did all the work.” Her retort was punctuated with a frown of mock remorse.

 

“You provided all the motivation.”

 

She bit her lip, basking in his praise. Scarlet never imagined she would be lucky enough to have such a generous lover. He was willing to give her whatever she wanted, and his desire to please her made her feel so undeserving. But she took everything he gave her gladly, relishing the gifts of ecstasy he was so eager to bestow.

 

The way he had spoken to her was exhilarating. The fine hairs on her arms stood up atop a wave of goosebumps, ruminating over the experience. _“Look at me. Say my name.”_ His loving commands thrilled her in a way she had never known. His raspy voice echoed in her head, sending a pleasant shiver down her back.

 

It was definitely different. She hadn't been with many men, and every time she joined with him, it was a new adventure. But she wasn't content to take it at face value. Her anxious mind scrolled through the implications. Did he say it out of anger? Resentment? Was he suspicious that she was thinking of someone else?

 

Scarlet's lips flattened and her eyebrows lowered. She looked back up at the ceiling and took a pensive drag of her cigarette. “I'm sorry about MacCready.”

 

Hancock frowned a little. “What?” he asked simply. _Why is she bringing this up now?_

 

“I'm sorry I slept with him.”

 

He chortled, much to her surprise. “Sunshine, if I had to apologize for every fuck I ever regretted, we'd be here for two days.”

 

She turned to him with a penetrating stare. Hancock wasn't made of stone. The brawl between the two men was proof enough that her actions had hurt him, and the guilt of it weighed on her conscience since the incident. “I just... I want you to know I didn't mean to hurt you.”

 

Hancock didn't know what to say. Yeah, he was upset when he knocked on the door at the hotel Rexford looking for Scarlet, only to see the shirtless merc standing in his way. He was always jealous of MacCready because he had always loved Scarlet, and he was the one barrier that kept him from having her completely. But he couldn't hold it against her. He had kicked her out of his home, broken her heart, and left her an emotional wreck with no one else to turn to.

 

“I know you didn't, angel.” He snuffed out his cigarette and grabbed her hand reassuringly.

 

Scarlet raised her hand to her eyes and looked away, trying to hide her oncoming tears. “I was in pain,” she choked.

 

John took her cigarette from between her fingers and extinguished it, moving the ashtray between them back to the nightstand. “Hey, hey...” he soothed, grabbing her around her waist and pulling her into his embrace. She cried quietly against his chest as he ran his hand over the top of her head, smoothing out her frizzy hair.

 

_If I could just go one damn day without making her cry..._

 

He'd probably regret pushing her away for the rest of his life. But he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her. Scarlet belonged to him, now. And he wasn't going to screw this up.

 

He held her for a while, offering her what comfort he could. But her sorrow was short-lived. After only a couple minutes, her sobs abated into the deep breaths of slumber.

 

Doing his best not to disturb her, Hancock stretched his arm out and shut off the lamp before returning it to her waist. He nestled with her beneath the covers and kissed her forehead, showering her with silent promises as he drifted off, holding Scarlet tight in his arms.


	3. The Element of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some conversation... It might be a little slow but I felt like there were some important pieces of character and relationship development to get around to.

“Fucking prick.”

 

Scarlet followed the path of Hancock's narrow-eyed glare to the windowed box high in the stands. Mayor McDonough could bee seen looking out over Diamond City Market from his office, possibly staring right back at the ghoul, though he was much too far away to tell for sure.

 

“You alright?” she asked. He reached into his pocket to retrieve a tin of mentats and popped three of them into his mouth.

 

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he grumbled. With a short huff he turned to face Scarlet, offering her the tin of little round pills.

 

“Seems like you two were great pals.” She was lightly sarcastic as she took a mentat and placed it on her tongue.

 

“Even when we were kids he was an asshole. Sticking his wet finger in my ear. Putting rotten tatos down my shirt and slapping my back...” He fumbled for a cigarette, sucking at it aggressively as he lit it.

 

“Siblings are famous for not getting along.”

 

“Yeah, but when you grow up, things are supposed to get better.” He took one more look at the mayor, scowling darkly. He hoped he could avoid the man while he was in town. Even though ten years had passed, his blood still boiled every time he saw him. The grudge he held against his brother was one he could never let go of.

 

Scarlet felt the anger coming off of him and tried to change the subject. Even though she wanted to know more, it would be better to wait until he was a little more calm. Maybe after they had left town, when Hancock wouldn't feel like the mayor was breathing down his neck.

 

“Where should we go first?” she asked. When they woke up that morning, Scarlet had immediately wanted to leave and go after the missing detective. She didn't see the point in delaying when they knew where he was. It was just a matter of getting there.

 

But Hancock tried to be the voice of reason. Her judgment was clouded by the desire to find her child, but he knew that rescuing the detective would be a greater challenge than she realized. The kidnapper in question, Skinny Malone, used to be a resident of Goodneighbor. He knew the man well, and knew that wherever he was, he would have an army of Triggermen with him. They'd be well-armed and prepared for an assault, and he wanted to make sure they were ready as well.

 

 _“What if they're going to kill him?”_ Scarlet had asked. She felt like the clock was ticking, and that their mission had an expiration date.

 

 _“If they were gonna kill him, they would've done it already,”_ he had told her. It was true; If the detective was alive, he'd keep for a few more days. It wouldn't make any difference to Valentine if they left now or in two weeks. Whatever his fate was, it had already been decided.

 

“You need a hat, right?” Hancock recalled her complaining about the blaring sun on their walk to Diamond City. He thought the ever-increasing freckles on her face were kind of cute, but he didn't like seeing her in an almost continuous state of sunburn.

 

“Yeah. I'm not real excited about getting skin cancer.”

 

“Follow me.” Fallon's Basement was just around the corner. He remembered it as being a pretty uptight establishment, but she'd be able to find just about anything she needed there.

 

He opened the door for her and she beamed at him. She felt flattered by the gesture. His attentiveness only made her love him more. Hancock was equally elated, and he swelled with pride knowing she recognized the act for what it was. He loved her down to the last detail, and he wanted it to show in everything he did.

 

Hancock walked behind her as she entered the establishment. Scarlet looked around, visually soaking in the racks of clothing and the tastefully dressed mannequins. She had never been one to enjoy clothes shopping, but having so little to wear in the first place, the prospect of picking out new clothing was exciting.

 

A crass-looking woman with gray hair stood at the shop's counter, her nose crinkling at their approach. “This your first time here?” she barked.

 

Scarlet's head snapped toward her. She wasn't used to being spoken to like that by someone in the service industry. However, a lot had changed in two hundred years. “Yes ma'am,” was her overly-polite reply.

 

“Though so,” she snorted. Scarlet noticed her hand looming over a ten gauge on the counter top next to the cash register. “Some ground rules. This ain't a charity. Clothes are for sale if you have the money. Otherwise, the door's right there.”

 

Scarlet raised her hands in surrender and stopped a comfortable distance away from the counter. “Don't worry. I'm a paying customer. I'm not here to cause any trouble.”

 

The muscles around the woman's eyes relaxed and she pulled her hand away from the firearm. “Sorry if I'm a little suspicious. Security ain't much help these days.” She folded her arms and leaned against the wall behind her. “The name's Becky Fallon. Happy to show you everything we have in stock.”

 

“I was looking for a hat.”

 

“Right up against that wall.” Becky pointed off to Scarlet's left. “Try on as many as you want, hun.”

 

“Thanks.” Scarlet smiled at her. She was glad the woman didn't need too much convincing of the fact that she wasn't a thief. It seemed even in a “civilized” place like Diamond City, people had to be wary of one another.

 

She began walking toward the display, only to be interrupted by Becky's shrill voice calling after her. “Just make sure that ghoul doesn't touch anything.”

 

Scarlet halted in her tracks. She bit the tip of her tongue and turned to look at Hancock, standing just behind her. She cast a venomous eye at the merchant. _'He's not contagious,'_ she wanted to lash back.

 

Hancock noticed she was fighting back the urge to say something. He stiffly shook his head back and forth once, indicating that it wasn't worth the effort. Scarlet took a deep breath. She flashed her teeth at Becky in a smile that was none too genuine, then hurriedly disappeared from her line of sight.

 

“Bitch,” she mumbled, hastily assessing the various pieces of headgear in front of her. She resolved to make a selection quickly and get out before she was tempted to fly off the handle.

 

“Let it go, Sunshine.” Hancock was touched by her desire to defend him, but he had gotten so used to that kind of treatment over the years that it didn't bother him anymore.

 

“I don't understand it, that's all.” she said curtly, placing a broad-brimmed fedora on her head. Deciding it didn't fit, she put it back and swiped another one, then glanced at her face in a nearby mirror. “Why do people insist on being ignorant?”

 

“'Cause ignorance is bliss. Life's hard enough without havin' to think about what's really true and what isn't.” His eyes roamed listlessly around the shop and he put his hands in his pockets. “It's easier – and safer – if you learn to take things at face value.”

 

Scarlet clucked her tongue, examining the reflection of the red and white baseball cap on her head. “What do you think of this?” she asked, keeping her eyes glued to the mirror.

 

“Cute,” he said with a smirk. He was convinced she would look good in anything. As long as he could still see her face, her round blue eyes behind the wide lenses of her glasses, the cluster of freckles on her button nose, her small but sumptuous pink lips, it didn't matter what else she decided to add to the equation.

 

She cinched her ponytail and adjusted the brim. “It doesn't cover my ears, though,” she said with a slight frown. “That's one of the primary locations for melanoma.” Removing the cap and placing it back on the shelf, she took a step back and re-assessed her choices. “Can you get me that one?” She pointed high up to a spot she couldn't reach. Hancock glanced around him before retrieving it, then set it on the top of her head.

 

It was a suede cowboy hat, soft beige with a rich walnut-colored trim. She ran her hands around its edges, settling it around her scalp until it was snug. She smiled at her reflection, then turned to Hancock for his approval. “What about this one?”

 

“Adorable,” he responded. He meant it sincerely, but she pursed her lips and looked dissatisfied with his answer.

 

“No, really, I want your honest opinion.” She folded her arms and stared at him expectantly.

 

There was nothing he could do to keep himself from smiling. He'd had enough experience with women to know what was going on in her head, probably better than she did. She'd made her decision, but she needed him to say something negative. She'd get to argue her point, then convince herself it was what she wanted.

 

“Honestly? I don't know if it matches your outfit. Looks out of place.” He hoped he didn't sound like he was teasing her, even though he undoubtedly was.

 

“I don't care if it matches!” she insisted, looking back at the dusty mirror. “It covers my face, my ears, _and_ my neck. And it's durable.”

 

“Well you sold me, Sunshine.” He bit his bottom lip, attempting to keep himself from laughing. “I love a woman who's got some common sense.”

 

She beamed at her own reflection, then at him. “Just trying to be practical.”

 

Scarlet admired herself for another moment, and Hancock watched her fondly. “Is there anything else you need while we're here?” he asked.

 

She looked around the shop, considering his question. “Probably...”

 

With the hat still poised on her head, she wandered to the other side of the store. There was a mannequin in lingerie hiding in the corner that she had noticed when she first walked in. She still only had the one pair of underwear she left the vault with, and she'd only gotten a few opportunities to wash them. Even Hancock had a few pieces of clothing he could rotate, she noticed.

 

“I could really use some underwear...” she said, approaching a table stacked with women's bras and panties.

 

Hancock felt a surge of warmth rushing through his loins. He was getting semi-erect at just the thought of her in the leopard-print teddy on the mannequin. “What about that?” he asked, nodding to it with a cheeky grin.

 

Scarlet's cheeks flushed and she averted his gaze. “No way!” She stated, holding back a giggle. She began sorting through the more drab articles on the table next to it. “When would I ever wear something like that?”

 

He stroked his chin beneath his upturned lips, visualizing the possibilities. “I'm pretty sure we could come up with an occasion.”

 

“I'm not going to buy something that I can't even wear under my clothes.” She was trying to keep her tone serious, but couldn't help her own playful smile sneaking across her mouth. “Besides, I need to save my caps for something more useful.”

 

“What about that?” Hancock gestured to a lacy black thong hanging underneath a matching bra.

 

“What about it?” she snickered, glancing casually at the item in question.

 

“C'mon, that's useful, ain't it?”

 

“In what possible way is _that_ more useful than _this_?” Scarlet held up a pair of plain, white cotton panties and dangled them in front of his face.

 

“'Cause anything white doesn't stay white for long, especially when you're runnin' around the Commonwealth sweatin' your ass off.”

 

Scarlet cocked her head, examining the piece of clothing in her hand. He did have a point. Not that it really mattered what her underwear looked like, but she would feel a lot less disgusting at the end of the day if she didn't notice the nauseating yellow shade of layered sweat and grime.

 

But she was running out of money, and resolved to stick to the necessities. She was too serious-minded and too focused on finding her son to waste resources on something so trivial, especially if it was just to cater to her vanity.

 

“It'll have to wait,” she said, her voice ringing with finality. “I've gotta be thrifty with my caps.”

 

“You ain't payin' for this.”

 

Scarlet ceased browsing and looked at the ghoul, who wore an expression that was a bit too condescending for her taste. She had relied on him thus far for the majority of her needs; the only money she had was what she had saved from the sale of her wedding ring, and what she had managed to pilfer from the Gunner's corpses at Haymarket. He'd gotten her a weapon, bought her food and drinks, and had demonstrated his willingness to splurge on the occasional gift. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't grateful.

 

Hancock's easy spending habits didn't necessarily make her feel guilty. He seemed to have plenty of caps to go around. After all, he was the mayor of a fairly large settlement, and owned his own bar in a town where whiskey was more abundant than water.

 

It wasn't even about the money, she realized. It was about control. The whole situation reminded her too much of her marriage, in which her husband held the purse strings. She never liked the idea of relying on Nate for everything. He didn't allow her to have a career of her own, so she had to count on his income alone for her support. It made her feel weak, helpless, and trapped. Their relationship had been tempestuous at its best, and if things had ever escalated to a point where she felt unsafe living under the same roof, there wouldn't have been an easy way to escape.

 

She loved John, and he loved her. But things were seldom that simple. People could change. There were no guarantees in life, and very few things that were under her control. Her actions and her destiny were some of the few things she could call her own, as much as they could be, and she was determined to take charge of her own life from here on out. Self-reliance wasn't just optional; it was absolutely critical in this unforgiving future into which she had emerged.

 

“Honestly, I can pay for it myself,” she said, as gently as she could.

 

Hancock couldn't help but be slightly offended. To him, it just felt like rejection. It made _him_ feel powerless. From her initial arrival in Goodneighbor, he had felt responsible for her. And now that their relationship had evolved into something far more intimate, the sense of responsibility had only magnified. She had an important reason to be out here, after all. She was looking for her son. Hancock thought himself duty-bound to supply her with everything she needed to achieve her goal of finding him. And he cared for her happiness so deeply, he wanted to take away every worry he possibly could as she tracked him down. There was enough on her mind already. No need to add to her troubles by making her worry about how she was going to pay for everything.

 

“I insist,” he declared. She was stubborn, but sometimes caved into him if he was decisive enough, he had noticed.

 

Scarlet knew he meant well. But she shook her head at him with placid absolution. “It's important to me that I use my own money.”

 

Hancock's brow knitted dubiously, but he nodded silently at her. He understood her desire for independence, though he thought it frivolous under the circumstances. Still, if it would make her happy...

 

“How about you buy me lunch?” she offered with an affable smile.

 

“I can do that.”

 

* * *

 

 

After they had finished up at Fallon's, Hancock took her to the noodle stand in the center of the square. “You can't come to Diamond City without eating here,” he said. “That robot makes a killer bowl of ramen.”

 

“Nan-ni shimasko-ka?” asked the protrectron in the chef's hat as the pair took their seats.

 

“Hai. Tsu no boru wa shite, kudasai,” answered Scarlet.

 

Hancock's mouth fell open and he gaped at her with bewilderment. Her eyes were transfixed on the protrectron as he walked stiffly to a steaming kettle, scooping out a ladle of broth with his pincer-like hands.

 

As she politely waited with her hands folded, she caught Hancock's probing stare out of the corner of her eye. “What?” she asked, but her confident smile revealed her awareness.

 

“You can understand that bundle of circuits?”

 

“You don't study robotics without at least learning a little Japanese,” she said matter-of-factly. The robot creaked over with two steaming bowls of noodles and set them down in front of them. “Arigato,” Scarlet said simply.

 

Hancock grinned as he picked up his fork and twirled it into the wavy bowl of noddles, raising a generous mouthful to his face. Scarlet picked up her own fork and studied it momentarily before waving it at the protectron. “Anata-wa hashi o motte imasu-ka?”

 

“Hai,” he answered, his voice buzzing through his steel frame. He lumbered over to a counter stacked with dishes and retrieved a pair of polished wooden chopsticks. Scarlet took them with a gracious nod and expertly plucked out a cluster of ramen from the bowl, following the length of the noodles with the sticks as she slurped them into her mouth.

 

“You're full of surprises, Sunshine,” Hancock said after swallowing a mouthful. The corners of Scarlet's mouth raised shyly as she ate. She knew she was just showing off, but it felt kind of good to have something she could actually be proud of. It was painfully obvious that she was deficient in so many other crucial facets of post-war life.

 

The hungry pair said little as they devoured their food. Scarlet's eyes wandered around the marketplace as she ate, noting the different merchants and making a mental list of where they should go. Stimpacks from the doctor, jerkey from the butcher, some ammo from the weapons dealer. She noticed a workbench out in front of his shop. Maybe he'd let her use it to tinker with her pistol if she bought something from him. She was fairly positive she could figure out a way to increase the power. Maybe add some sights to help with her accuracy.

 

Scarlet's sweeping gaze traveled back to the doctor. She lifted the bowl to her mouth and took a swallow of broth as she stared at the man in a white lab coat, who was examining the teeth of a patient sitting in front of him. She found it odd that a doctor's office would be set up like any other merchant, open and exposed for all the passersby to see. It made her uncomfortable at the prospect of making any kind of serious visit. And there were some other reasons she wanted to see a doctor right now, reasons she didn't necessarily want the whole of Diamond City overhearing.

 

“We should stop at the doctor, stock up on some Stimacks,” she said. She wanted to make visiting him a priority, and was thankful to have a reason to go.

 

“If you wanna save your caps, we can wait until we swing back through Goodneighbor on the way to get Nicky,” Hancock replied, focused on his next mouthful. “I've got plenty saved up.”

 

“Maybe he has some other supplies we might need.” She tried to conceal her eagerness while pressing the issue.

 

“I guarantee you, he's got nothin' I ain't got already back at the State House. Dr. Amari would give you a better deal, anyway.”

 

Scarlet swirled the tips of her chopsticks absently in her half-empty bowl, looking longingly in the Doctor's direction. She tried to come up with another excuse to stop by. One that wouldn't arouse Hancock's suspicion.

 

But he was privy to the pensive look on her face. “Is there... some other reason you wanna see the doc?” He broached the subject gently. He was suddenly nervous about her health, and if she felt the need to get a check-up for whatever reason, he didn't want to dissuade her from doing so.

 

Scarlet looked down at her bowl and pressed her lips together. She felt kind of guilty. She should be able to tell him anything, but the personal nature of the matter made her flustered.

 

“You don't gotta be embarrassed,” he said. No doubt it had something to do with their sexual intimacy. Maybe she was worried about radiation, or getting some other kind of unintended side-effect from their coupling. Smoothskin women often had that concern before jumping into bed with him, and even though there was no real danger in having sex with a ghoul, he understood the desire to be cautious. Particularly for someone like her, whose knowledge of ghouls was limited only to what he had told her.

 

Scarlet's faced reddened slightly and she avoided meeting his eyes. “It's just that...” she began. Her head darted around briefly, as if to ensure no one else was listening. “I thought... maybe... it would be a good idea if I got on some kind of birth control.”

 

Hancock would have laughed if it came from anyone else. But her sheepish expression and her amiable innocence tugged at his heart. “You know, that's actually one thing you don't gotta worry about.” He leaned in a little closer, respecting her desire for secrecy. “You see ghouls don't really have the capabilities of... ya know. Makin' babies.”

 

Scarlet flushed a little darker, but looked at him warily under her lowered brows. “Are ghouls... sterile?” she asked, for lack of a better word.

 

“Let's just say in the ten years I've been like this, I ain't never had any infants dropped on my doorstep.” He leaned away from her, raising his bowl to his mouth to down the last of the broth. “And trust me, if the mayor of Goodneighbor had a kid, he'd be followed night and day by an angry woman demanding some child support.”

 

“Are ghoul women infertile, too?” she asked, purely out of curiosity.

 

“As far as anyone knows, yeah. Never heard any stories of a ghoul havin' kids, unless they had 'em before they went ghoul.”

 

Scarlet sighed and went back to eating. She should have been satisfied with his answer, but the irrational part of her mind was terrified of getting pregnant. Especially out here, now, when the prospect of prenatal care and childbirth was beyond grim. And even if Hancock couldn't impregnate her, there was always the possibility of....

 

She cringed unconsciously, remembering what had happened to her at Haymarket. God forbid she wound up captured again by a group of heartless bastards like the Gunners. Winlock didn't seem to care about the consequences of releasing himself within her. If she hadn't just stopped breastfeeding, she'd be worried now about the possibility of carrying an unplanned child.

 

Hancock scrutinized her dubious look. He didn't want her to have to go through the trouble, or the caps, for that matter, if there was truly no reason to do it. He pushed his finished bowl away and rested his chin in his hand, trying to come up with some way to quell her doubts.

 

“Ya know,” he said lowly, drawing close until he was just inches from her ear. “If it'll make you feel better, there's... other things I can do instead of lettin' go inside you.”  
  


Scarlet's spine stiffened and she sat upright. Her breath quickened at his words, and she was flooded with embarrassment and desire all at once.

 

“You'd make one hell of a canvas,” he added, his lips curling into a devilish smirk.

 

Her heart was hammering, threatening to burst through her ribcage. Every time he spoke to her like that a tingling sensation struck her in her core. Her inner walls almost clenched at the very thought. She was suddenly overcome with frustration at the thought that he was so close, but she couldn't touch him.

 

Hancock couldn't conceal the desire in his voice. He was simmering with vexation at his own realization that he couldn't simply grab her around the waist and kiss her. He could, he supposed, if he wanted to start a riot with the locals.

 

Scarlet demurely met his eyes. “That works for me,” she said, her voice quaking slightly. It was a satisfactory enough solution to her irrational fears, and an arousing one at that. She quickly finished the contents of her bowl and set her chopsticks down beside it with shaking hands. “Arigato,” she said hastily to the protectron, bowing her head.

 

They both stood up urgently, sharing a knowing look as they nearly ran through the streets of Diamond City back to the Dugout Inn. It seemed whatever they had planned for the rest of the day could wait.

 


	4. A Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut followed by fluff. Enjoy!

As soon as the hotel room door closed behind them, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. The fact that they were essentially forbidden from physical contact while they were out in public made it all the more electrifying as they ran their hands down each others' bodies, kissing and licking each others' flesh ravenously.

 

They worked at tearing off each others clothes as if their lives depended on it, letting the garments lay wherever they fell. They were completely naked within seconds, Hancocks stiff erection pointing boldly upward, as Scarlet made her way to the bed.

 

But Hancock grabbed her by the arm, roughly enough to make her gasp, and swung her back against the wall. Her back hit the surface with a light thud and he grabbed her by the wrists, raising them above her head and pinning them to the wall firmly. His grip was tight and controlling, just short of being painful.

 

She panted heavily beneath his lustful stare. His eyes roamed over her exposed flesh, stopping at her heaving chest. He adjusted his hold on her wrists, taking both of them in one of his large hands and keeping them in place, while his other hand drifted down to one of her sumptuous breasts. He opened his hand and, careful not to allow his palm to touch her pebbling nipple, placed each of his fingers around the base of it. Then slowly, tortuously, he began pulling his fingertips over her breast, bringing them to meet at the peak of the pale pink nub.

 

Scarlet's eyes closed as she absorbed the sensation. He plucked at her nipple before repeating the movement, grazing the sensitive skin around it before finally pinching it in his fingers. He stuck the flat of his tongue into her mouth, which was open from her sighs of ardor. Her own tongue moved hungrily against it as he devoured her with several pulsing, rapacious kisses. Her breath pulled and pushed sharply through her nostrils, and he drew in every exhalation of the air that was sweetly expiring from her lungs.

 

He toyed with her nipple as he kissed her. The two points of contact traveled the length of her body and met in her clit, creating one delicious culmination of pleasure. The sensitive bundle of nerves throbbed with need, and she pushed her thighs together in an attempt to stimulate it while her hands were still pinned helplessly above her head.

 

Prying his mouth away from hers, Hancock noticed the wiggling of her hips and ran his fingers down her side, leaving a trail of goosebumps along her ivory flesh. Then, following the inward path of her hips with his index finger, he slid it between her folds.

 

“Somebody's wet,” he growled in her ear. He languidly slid his finger in and out between her pussy lips, simultaneously gathering and spreading her heated moisture.

 

She answered his touch with a satisfied purr deep in her chest. Stooping down, he took one of her nipples into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue as he sucked against her aureola. Her hands balled into fists and she dug her nails into her palms, overcharged with pleasure by the powerlessness of her position. She attempted to move her arms, if only to support her writhing body by bracing her hands against his shoulders, but he only responded by holding on tighter.

 

She was edging already. Her moans climbed higher in her throat against the rising tide. But suddenly he stopped, releasing her tingling nipple from his mouth and withdrawing his finger from her folds. She opened her eyes and gave him a yearning stare, punctuated by her helplessness.

 

He returned her look with a licentious smile, raising up the finger he had used to tease her. It was glistening with her fluids, and he held it in front of her as if to call her out on the intensity of her arousal.

 

Without thinking, Scarlet opened her mouth, creating a soft “o” that begged for him to let her have a taste. A gush of superheated blood pulsed into the head of his cock as he tepidly placed his fingertip against her bottom lip. She locked around it, sucking the length of it into her mouth and circling it with her tongue. Her cheeks hollowed as she engulfed it, relishing the taste of her own desire. It made her feel a little dirty, but in a way that only added fuel to the growing fire within her.

 

Hancock wrapped his palm around her mouth as she cleaned herself off of him, eventually releasing his finger from her rapacious suction. As it was expelled from her lips, he moved his open hand down her face, caressed the underside of her jaw, then laid it to rest over the center of her neck. Without warning, the tips of his fingers pressed into her skin and he supplied a sturdy pressure to his palm.

 

Scarlet sucked in a startled breath, made slightly more difficult by Hancock's hand pressing against her windpipe. It wasn't so much that she couldn't manage to breathe, but it was enough to put her body in a temporary paralysis, succumbing to his will.

 

He kissed her parted lips, almost tenderly, his mouth barely brushing against hers. The contrast between his hand clasped around her throat and the softness of his kiss made her shiver. He was artfully conveying that he wasn't going to hurt her, even as he had her pinned against the wall.

 

Hancock loosened his hold on her wrists and ran his free hand over her taught bicep, coaxing her to lower her arms. She followed his wordless instructions and let them fall to her sides. She wanted to touch him, but a slight push against her neck told her to keep them where they were. He ran his rough hand up and rested it on her shoulder, leaning his face in to the curve of her neck.

 

“You're mine,” he said as he placed a luscious kiss on the erogenous area of skin.

 

The possessiveness in his voice was intoxicating. She squirmed a little against his body, his erection pushing into her stomach as he laved at her neck. She tilted her head to the side, giving him as much space as she could for his lips to traverse.

 

“Say it,” he commanded, forceful yet warm all at once.

 

“I'm yours,” she whispered, as she managed to push a small puff of air over her vocal chords. The admission made her tingle all over, and she felt as if she would fall to pieces were he not holding fast to her neck.

 

An earthy growl rumbled in his chest as he clasped his lips over the spot where her neck and shoulder met. He pulsed his palm against her throat and tightened his hold of her shoulder, keeping her rigidly in place. Then she felt his teeth, and a wickedly delightful pull as he sucked the skin into his mouth.

 

The small taste of pain was nothing compared to the immense pleasure of it. His hot breath rippled out of his nose and down her back, and she dug her fingernails into the wall behind her. She ceased to breathe for the moment, wanting to feel nothing else but the edges of his teeth nearly puncturing her flesh.

 

Once he had feasted on the spot to his satisfaction, he pulled away to assess his work. An ovular spot of bright red stood starkly against the milky whiteness, and one small vein had already burst noticeably near the surface, streaking the mark with purple. He grinned, knowing that a bruise was on its way to developing. He had marked her. It would be temporary, but every time he saw it until it faded he could replay the episode in his mind, and the echo of her surrender would reverberate in his ears.

 

His right hand never moved from her neck as he began exploring her body with the other. She closed her eyes as he caressed her chest, grazing over one breast and letting his fingers dance across her achingly erect nipple, then moved to the other. Her whimpers of need squeaked from her constricted throat as he made his way lower, following the curve of her waist, her hip, before coming to a standstill just underneath her supple bottom.

 

Hancock wrapped his hand around her thigh and pulled up, prompting her to lift her leg and hook it around him. Her pussy lips stretched apart, sticky with her ever-flowing trickle of ambrosia. He shifted his hips down, allowing his cock to slide forward through her folds, leaving his own silky slickness as precum oozed from its head.

 

His tip rested tantalizingly close to her opening, his shaft enveloped in her rosy petals. He clenched his jaw at the sensation of her warm wetness on his cock, a small hiss escaping from behind his teeth as he pulled his hips back, revealing his scarred, bulging shaft, now painted with her desire.

 

Keeping a hold of her neck and her thigh, he pushed his hips forward again, sliding along her swollen clit, between her folds, and poking out from the base of her ass as he pressed his body forward as far as it could go. He kept his face in front of hers, trapping her in an unblinking stare. Her wanton gasps were saturated with need as he withdrew, then moved forward again, creating a steady pace as he enjoyed the feeling of his cock slipping along her skin.

 

She tightened the grip of her leg around his hips, drawing him further in until their bodies were smashed together. Her breasts pushed against his chest with each shallow breath. He kept going, teasing her with his member, eliciting a soft but plaintive cry each time his groin collided against hers. Scarlet struggled to keep her hands to herself as he continued rubbing against her, nudging against her opening with every pass, but not quite entering her.

 

“Please,” she strained. Her eyes were wide and eager, backlit with lust and overwhelmed with the craving for him to fill her.

 

“Please, what?” He spoke from the back of his throat and he pushed his body hard against hers, subtly moving his hips until she was on the verge of losing control.

 

She peered at him beneath her lashes, finding his onyx eyes wild and full of primitive hunger. “Please, fuck me.”

 

Her words were like mana from heaven to his starving soul. He was greedy with want of her, but dared not go any further until he knew with absolute certainty that she was relinquishing control. He wanted to claim her body, assert his ownership thoroughly.

 

“Beg for it.” His words smacked against her mouth as he continued to bore her with his gaze and run his shaft between her legs.

 

“Please, John. Please, fuck me.” Her voice was hoarse and almost woeful as she implored him. “I want your cock inside me. Please...”

 

She would have been taken aback by what she was saying, were she not overwhelmed the urgency to satisfy her excruciating need. Scarlet had never spoken this way, not to anyone. She didn't know she had it in her. But John was masterfully drawing it out of her, and she was unabashed with her request.

 

In one swift motion, Hancock let go of her neck and lay his palm against her bottom. The hand on her thigh slid up to her other cheek and he dug his fingertips into the soft flesh. Then, with surprising ease, he lifted her up against the wall until her ass was poised just above his waiting cock.

 

Scarlet grabbed his shoulders to maintain her balance his he lined himself up with her yearning womanhood, then pulled her body down along his entire length, spearing her with his shaft until her clit came into contact with flat surface above his cock.

 

She wrapped both legs around him and dug her heels into his back, begging him for more. Gripping her ass even harder, he inched his way even deeper with a short but powerful thrust. Scarlet cried out in ecstasy as every bit of space within her was consumed by his engorged manhood.

 

Hancock's face tightened as he penetrated her. Rubbing himself along her wet pussy was enough to get him going, but adding to it the way she spoke to him riled him up beyond measure. As he began slowly pumping his hips in and out, he knew he wasn't going to last long, and hoped that he could make her come before he did.

 

Fortunately, his endless teasing was ample preparation. Scarlet held her limbs securely around his body as he kept her against the wall, slamming into her pussy with an incredible force that rattled her very bones. The ridge of his cock's swollen head scraped along her walls and brushed against her sweet spot with every thrust. Her hard clit struck him rhythmically each time he pulled her down, and soon her muscles were tensing from the steadily growing tension pulsing deep in her core.

 

Hancock gritted his teeth and held back, noticing the gradual clenching of her walls around him. She was tight enough to begin with, and as her desire mounted, her pussy held onto him like a vice. He thought she might strangle his cock so hard he'd lose blood flow, but he kept pounding her cunt mercilessly, laboring to keep from prematurely releasing himself.

 

She was almost there. She wore that tell-tale look on her face, with raised eyebrows, parted lips, and eyes struggling to stay open. He pressed his forehead against hers, attempting to stay focused as she unraveled, and leaned forward until her back was flat against the wall.

 

“Come for me.”

 

It was all the rising wave within her needed to crest and finally fall. The rush cascaded over her breasts and belly, settling in her core. Her pussy squeezed against him, then relaxed, then squeezed again, utilizing every fiber of muscle in her pelvis as she came all over his cock.

 

She cried out so loudly that he felt the need to place his palm over her mouth. She breathed heavily through her nostrils and moaned against his hand, the edges of her fingernails raking along his back.

 

She was still coming as he lifted her up and away from the wall, bringing her over to the freshly-made bed. He set her on the edge of the mattress and guided her to lay back as gingerly as he could while still maintaining the pace of his thrusts.

 

Her orgasm was finally starting to ebb and he gave himself permission to let go. Transfixed by the rhythmic bouncing of her breasts, he pulled himself out of her twitching pussy, grunting as he pointed it at the glorious orbs before letting himself loose upon her.

 

His fisted his cock and poised himself at the edge of the bed, pushing his balls against the warmth of her vulva. The first thick rope of cum that shot out landed in a neat line between her breasts, spurting from his tip with such force that some of it landed on her throat. Uncontrollable moans erupted from his mouth as he continued running his hand down the length of his cock. He could scarcely control his aim with his shaking fist as the next stream of cum landed halfway on the bed and her breast.

 

Three more generous bursts followed, the next shot streaking its way across the bottom of her ribcage, then one along her belly, the last pulse having just enough power to make it past the line of her pubic hair.

 

Scarlet watched the spectacle raptly, fascinated as well as turned on as he expelled his seed over her warm flesh. Once he had milked himself dry, he took a few steps back, gasping for air like he had just run a marathon.

 

He soaked in his handiwork. Though hardly visible against her pale skin, he could see the strands of cum shining in the ambient light. The heat of her skin quickly seeped into the liquid, thinning it out, and it much of it began trickling down the line of her sternum into the hollow at the top of her stomach, pooling just above her naval.

 

Scarlet's breathing had begun to even out. He watched as she lifted her finger and raked it over the creamy effluence clinging to her breast. Then, putting her finger to her lips, she stuck out her tongue and lapped at it, smiling impishly as she tasted him.

 

Hancock beamed irrepressibly. He loved seeing her like this, covered in his cum, a love bite deepening with color on her neck, and her voice sighing with satisfaction from his skillful touch.

 

Much to her surprise, Hancock hunched over and ran his tongue along her stomach, beginning the process of licking her clean. The stickiness of his cum was replaced by a light trail of saliva as he covered every glistening inch of her body.

 

“God...” she exhaled as he lapped at her skin. She put her hands on his scalp, ready to pull his face into a kiss when he finally reached the last bit of fluid on her throat.

 

She thrust her tongue into his mouth, in a desperate attempt to taste what bit of him remained there. He liked how hungry she was for him. It made him stiffen all over again, and he considered re-taking her while she was still flushed and supine on the bed.

 

But she pushed his shoulders back gently, motioning him off so she could get up. She hurried off to the bathroom and Hancock flopped down on the mattress, sighing contentedly. _I suppose we could take a break,_ he thought, getting out two cigarettes and grasping the ends between his lips.

 

Scarlet jumped into bed beside him after emerging from the bathroom, gratefully taking the freshly lit smoke he offered. “Thanks,” she said, grinning widely. She splayed out on her stomach beside him, propping herself up in the crook of his arm, and gazed at him appreciatively.

 

Hancock stretched an arm behind his head and lay flat on his back, pulling the other around her neck to take a drag off his cigarette. “You always have to pee right after you have sex?” he asked with a quizzical smile.

 

“It's a hygiene thing,” she said with a giggle. “You're less likely to get a UTI if you pee right after.”

 

“UTI?”

 

“Bladder infection,” she clarified, blowing the smoke out of the side of her mouth and away from his face. He reached to the nightstand and grabbed the ashtray, placing it on the center of his torso.

 

“Were you studying to be a doctor at one point? You seem to know a lot about that kind of stuff.”

 

“My dad was a physician. Had his own practice and everything.”

 

Hancock arched a brow. “He told you to pee after you have sex?”

 

A bubble of laughter burst from Scarlet's throat. “Actually, yeah. It was cool having a doctor for a dad when I was little, but things got real awkward in my teenage years.”

 

“I'll bet.”

 

“There's nothing creepier than talking to your dad about the birds and the bees. I don't know why he didn't just let mom do it.” Scarlet looked pensively at the wall for a moment, walking her fingers against his chest. “He didn't warn me about any of the stuff we just did, though.” She met his eyes briefly, before smiling bashfully and turning away.

 

Hancock removed his hand from behind his head and passed the smoldering cigarette into it, leaving him free to run his fingertips along her back. She shivered a little under his touch, much to his enjoyment. “You like getting a little rough?” he asked, his voice deepening and dripping with sensuality.

 

“I guess so...” she said, biting the corner of her bottom lip. “I'm not really sure what I like.”

 

Extinguishing their expired cigarettes, Hancock replaced the ashtray on the nightstand and rolled to his side, running his hand down the small of her back to her perky bottom, then up again. “You haven't been with a lot of men, have you?” he chided. Her naivete was part of her appeal. Her limited sexual experience came with a plethora of rewards; being able to share something new with her each time they made love was almost a point of pride. He loved testing her, teasing her, feeling out her reactions, figuring out what she liked, which parts of her body were particularly sensitive, discovering what made her scream with ecstasy...

 

“Well, my first time was when I was a senior in high school,” she said, pressing one index finger into the other as she began recounting her sexual partners. Her eyes roamed upward as she attempted to recall them. “He was my boyfriend, Chaz. A real geeky guy. Not all that attractive, but he liked me, and I liked him. It seemed like the thing to do before I left for college.

 

“Then there was Parker. He was actually my roommate's older brother. Cynthia didn't like it when she found out, but we dated for like, two years, so she eventually got used the idea.” She paused, considering her description of him before going on. “He was cute, and nice, but I dunno, he was kinda boring. He wasn't all that... adventurous when it came to sex. And I didn't know any better so I didn't care.

 

“Then there was Nate, who I ended up marrying. Then MacCready, then you.” She extended a finger with each name, ending up with an outstretched palm. “Five. That's it.”

 

Hancock chuckled under his breath. “You poor thing...” he mocked, snatching her hand and placing it against his chest. “It breaks my heart, knowing you were deprived for so long.”

 

Scarlet tried to scowl at him and wiggle out of his grasp, but he tightened his mischievous grip, drawing out a smile. “I'm so glad you were able to save me from my misery,” she said, her voice wry and facetious. But it was followed by a light-hearted giggle that hummed behind her lips. Hancock stared at her affectionately, bringing his hand to her cheek and tucking a loose tress of orange hair behind her ear.

 

“How many women have you been with?” she asked, searching him with her shiny blue eyes.

 

He immediately looked away, but he couldn't suppress his continuing smile. “I don't think you wanna know that, Sunshine.”

 

“C'mon,” she egged him. “Tell me. I'm not gonna be jealous, I'm just curious.”

 

“Does it really matter?” he sighed. He almost regretted telling her that she could ask him anything, and that he would answer it. He wasn't sure what she might think of him if she knew the answer.

 

“I told you, so now you gotta tell me,” she demanded impishly, poking him in the chest.

 

Hancock closed his eyes momentarily under his furrowed brow, rubbing them as he worked up the courage to answer her. After a heavy sigh, he finally spoke, keeping his lids shut tight. “Ninety-three,” he barely managed to say.

 

Scarlet tried not to balk. _Damn, that's a lot_.

 

“Y-you've slept with ninety-three different women?” She said the figure aloud, making sure it was indeed what he had meant.

 

“Ninety-three women,” he affirmed, half-groaning. “ _And_ eighteen men.”

 

“Damn,” she exhaled. “How old are you, anyway?”

 

“I dunno. Fifty-one, fifty-two, somewhere in there.” He was immensely uncomfortable with this line of questioning, but he did his best to grin and bear it. She had a right to know, he figured, no matter how much he didn't like the facts about himself that he was revealing.

 

“I guess that's not so bad, for your age.” Her tone was much more agreeable than he had anticipated. As he glanced back at her smiling face, he felt silly for worrying about opening up. Scarlet wasn't the type of person to rub someone's face in their mistakes. From their first few meet-ups at the Third Rail, he had gleaned that she was a people pleaser by nature. It made her feel good when the people around her felt good, too.

 

“I don't deserve you, Sunshine,” he said rather sheepishly. She _shouldn't_ be okay with his sexual history. He wasn't okay with it.

 

She grinned at his praise, then raised her eyebrows as she was suddenly overcome with worry. “Can ghouls get STDs?” she asked tersely.

 

“Nah, you don't gotta worry about that, either,” he said with a comforting look. “Another great thing about being a ghoul. Can't catch anything. Can't get sick.”

 

She nodded in satisfaction, then rolled onto her back and allowed her head to be cradled by the pillow. Hancock studied her features, trying to gauge what she was really thinking as she lay there silently. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but the muscles around her eyes looked strained, and her lips were pressed into a flat line. To him, she looked like she might have been a little jealous. Or at least concerned about his intentions. He didn't exactly have the reputation of being the kind of guy you could settle down with.

 

“Listen...” he began, speaking soothingly into her ear. “If you're worried that I'm gonna run around on ya, or somethin' like that, I won't.” Scarlet opened her eyes and turned to face him, her expression wide with insecurity. She did occasionally wonder if he truly intended to be faithful to her, considering the lifestyle he lead before meeting her.

 

“I know I'm kinda new to this whole 'relationship' thing,” he said, cupping her face in his palm. “But I love you. You're my girl. And I'm gonna try my hardest not to mess this up. Understand?”

 

Her heart swelled up at his confession. It was exactly what she needed to hear. “I understand,” she said warmly, smiling as she placed her hand over his. He pulled her face towards his and kissed her passionately, pressing his lips against hers with fervent appreciation. He hoped she could accept his promise, and sense his sincerity through his thorny exterior. He was a complicated man with a complicated past, but she was his future, and he was sure of that more than he had ever been sure of anything else in his life.

 

After a few minutes of glowing stillness, Hancock rolled over and stepped out of bed. Scarlet watched him curiously as he pulledhis pants over his legs, then searched the floor for his shirt. “Where are you going?”

 

“I'm gonna go get a bottle of that moonshine and bring it back to the room.” He found his shirt and pulled it over his head, then reached for his boots.

 

“I should probably go with you.” She bolted upright and reached for her glasses, intending to accompany him to the bar. She remembered McDonough's warning. He had told her to supervise the ghoul, lest he be thrown out of town.

 

“It's all right. Nobody here's gonna care if you're not with me.”

 

“But-”  
  


“Relax.” Hancock returned to the bed and sat down next to her, not breaking eye conact as he slid on his boots.

 

She crossed her arms and the corners of her mouth turned down. He tried not to stare at the way her arms pushed beneath her breasts. He was tempted to reach out with both hands and cup the fleshy mounds, knead them in his palms, pull at her nipples until she squealed with delight...

 

“It's not even one in the afternoon,” she scolded. “There's still a lot we could be doing instead of getting drunk.”

 

“What? You mean you don't wanna go for round two?” Hancock played up his disappointment.

 

“Well I'd _like_ to,” she began with a disconcerting sigh, “But we're supposed to be getting ready to go after the detective.”

 

“I told ya, there's no rush.” He got up from the bed and plucked his coat from the rack by the door.

 

“I know...” she admitted grudgingly. “But I shouldn't just sit around here doing nothing. It's not right...”

 

Hancock examined her through narrowed eyes. She looked ashamed, her head hanging and her eyes closed.

 

And she felt ashamed. She felt selfish. Since leaving the vault, the only time she had spent idle was when she was recovering from an injury. Other than that, she made it a point to keep herself busy, working toward the goal of finding Shaun. But hanging around naked in a hotel room, drinking, smoking, and fucking, all in the middle of the day, it felt to her to be the height of decadence. It felt wrong.

 

John sidled over to her side of the bed and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Ya know, just because you spend a little time having fun doesn't make you a bad mom.”

 

She snorted, but was amazed at how well he had read her mind. That's exactly what she felt like. She was indulging her own wants and needs rather than focusing on Shaun. In her mind, she was a pretty poor example of motherhood.

 

“You're just saying that so you can keep me in bed,” she huffed.

 

“No, I'm saying it because it's true. You're too hard on yourself, you know that?”

 

Scarlet jerked her face away from his grip, but didn't argue. Arms obstinately folded, she looked away from him to some arbitrary spot on the bed and honed in on it.

 

“Look, I'm gonna go get us somethin' to drink,” he went on, barring a response. “Maybe get a snack. And you're going to stay right there.” He pointed at her emphatically, and she cocked an eyebrow at him as he continued. “You're takin' the rest of today off, and you're gonna stay in that bed, naked, until tomorrow morning. Got it?”

 

Against her own volition, she smiled. The fact that he was telling her what to do seemed to take away some of the guilt she was burdened with. Now it was his decision, not hers. And who was she to say no to that handsome face?

 

“Fine,” she relented, barely concealing her elation. “But you'd better hurry back here.”

 

“Yes ma'am.” Hancock bowed dramatically before grabbing his hat off the arm of the couch. Then, securing it on his head, he swaggered off to the bar, whistling a jaunty tune as he went.


	5. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angsty feels. Then some exposition with Piper that I felt was unavoidable.

The rest of the night in the hotel room was a blissful blur of entangled limbs and sweet nothings. Hancock was careful to test the waters; he reminded her to tell him if he did anything she didn't like. But it seemed there was nothing he did that didn't leave her begging for more.

 

At one point she rolled on top of him, pinning his hands playfully against the bed and riding him until she panted his name. For his part, he liked her in whatever position he could have her. When she was on top of him, she appeared to manifest into a goddess of love, moaning and swaying over his prostrate body, forcing herself against his shaft until she shuddered with pleasure. _God, she's beautiful_ , he said to himself. He couldn't stop repeating it, couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was to watch her naked form writhing in ecstasy over and over again.

 

They took brief repasts in between bouts of lovemaking. She liked to lay on her stomach, smoke a cigarette, and gaze at him as they both recovered from their efforts. Her troubled mind had been wiped clean of everything else, and she lost herself in time. For right now, the world could wait. Nick could wait. Even Shaun could wait. The hours of evening blended seamlessly into the early morning and they finally fell asleep, battered and worn from their exertions.

 

Scarlet emerged from a dreamy slumber sometime mid-morning, awakened by Hancock's rigid member pressing against her bottom as he spooned her. They were both barely conscious as she ground her hips over his length, urging him to slip inside her.

 

He acquiesced, and pushed his way in, his eyes still clouded with sleep. But her warmth and wetness gradually brought him around. He latched onto her hip with his hand, desperate to go in further.

 

Finding that he couldn't go any deeper in his position, he rolled to his knees, grabbing her by the ass and pulling her along with him. He had taken her this way last night. Her cries were particularly heady as he slapped her bottom, gently at first, then building in intensity until he could see the red imprint of his hand. He felt especially powerful as she rested on her forearms and knees, his hands free to explore her body or tease her clit as he pleased.

 

He struck her hard on her white bottom, tainting it red, the sound of it echoing in Scarlet's ears and reminding her of the night before. It was exhilarating, the combination of pain and pleasure, the feeling of being at his mercy, of giving in to his lustful demands.

 

They kept up a furious pace. They were both wide awake now, deep in the throes of it all, trapped willingly in their own little world of sinful exuberance.

 

Hancock lost himself to his own animal instincts. He grabbed Scarlet by her bright red ponytail, which threatened to escape from its loosening confinements. He wound it around his hand and yanked back, pulling the top half of her body up off the bed, her spine arching, her chest thrust outward.

 

Without any warning, Scarlet shook her head violently until he released his grip, then scrambled away down the length of the bed until she was up against the headboard. She turned to face him, her eyes wild and terror-stricken, her lip trembling, and her legs pulled protectively to her chest.

 

Hancock was at an utter loss. Just seconds before she was nearly shrieking with unbridled lust. Now, she looked like she wanted to run away. Had he hurt her? It couldn't have hurt more than his hands around her throat, or his sharp stinging slaps on her backside.

 

But it didn't seem like a reaction born of pain. She hadn't yelped or otherwise vocalized anything that would indicate it. No, she had done this because of some pending sense of dread, because she found something about him repulsive. Her face was twisted into a sick combination of disgust and horror to the point that he barely recognized her.

 

“Sunshine...” he said softly. His expression melted with concern as he reached a slow, cautious hand out to her, beckoning for her to come back to him.

 

“No.” Scarlet shook her head and jumped out of bed, kicking up the covers behind her. “No, no, no...” She appeared to be speaking to herself, pacing around the room with her eyes on the floor.

 

Hancock was frozen where he was, poised on his knees, following her with disquieted eyes. _Am I still asleep?_ The way she moved, nervously fidgeting with the tip of her ponytail she had pulled over her shoulder, it was downright bizarre.

 

“No... no...” she repeated, her voice raising in intensity. Hancock was considering getting up and grabbing her, but he was almost frightened by the way she looked, her back rigid, her face turning white. Her behavior was totally unpredictable. He restrained himself for the moment, tensely waiting to see what she did next.

 

Then she stopped, standing in front of the sofa where he had tossed his clothes last night. She leaned over, honing in on the crumpled American flag, and began running her hands through it. Finding the handle of his knife, she pulled it free, raising it in front of her as she bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

 

Hancock leaped from the bed and tried to catch the door before it closed, but he was too late. He heard the click of the lock from the inside. Scarlet was secured in the bathroom, with his knife, and his mind raced with panic as he thought of all the ways she might intend to use it.

 

“Scarlet!” he shouted, pounding his fist against the door.

 

He put his ear against the wood and listened. Hearing nothing, he tried again.

 

“Scarlet!” he pleaded. He attempted in vain to twist the doorknob, but it was immovable. Then, after taking a long step back, he lunged forward and thrust his shoulder desperately against the door, not caring if he broke it down to get to her.

 

There was no give. He growled and retreated all the way to the bed, then ran into it once again, summoning every bit of strength he had as he hurled his body into the sealed entrance. It rattled in its frame, but otherwise was fixed into place.

 

“Please, Sunshine!” His mouth pressed into the flaking white paint as he called out for her. The silence on the other side was harrowing. He slammed his fist into the wood three more times, then backed up once again, preparing to mow down the door in one final surge of effort.

 

But before he had even reached the bed frame, he heard the inner lock unlatching. The doorknob turned and the door creaked inward, revealing Scarlet's still form, naked and unharmed.

 

“Sunshine...” he said breathlessly. He moved in to embrace her, but she raised her hands as if to ward him off. In one fist she held the handle of his knife in a white-knuckled grip, and in the other she clutched a thick bundle of hair, tied off at the end where she had cut it.

 

She had hacked off her ponytail. As she lowered her face, he could see the reflection of the back of her head in the mirror. Her remaining locks were a jagged mess, poking wildly in all directions.

 

“What...” he began, finding the rest of his words caught in his throat. She had turned on him so quickly, behaved so strangely, that he was still trying to make sense of what he saw. “Why?” he asked simply, a waver barely evident in his voice.

 

Scarlet refused to look at him. A tear rolled from the corner of each eye simultaneously, curving over her cheeks and joining at the bottom of her chin. “I just...” she choked. Her words were truncated by her threatening sobs. “I just don't want anyone to grab me like that ever again.”

 

A wave of guilt collided with his chest so forcefully that it knocked the wind out of him. He had never actually asked her what happened at Haymarket, while she was held prisoner by the Gunners. He had gathered from the way she unleashed her anger on Winlock's corpse that he had likely violated her in some way. But he knew better than to bring it up. He figured she would come around to telling him in her own time. And until then, he was happy to pretend like it never happened at all.

 

Now, he could do nothing to shield himself from the aftermath. She was confronting him with the irreparable impact of her assault, and his heart broke for her out of sheer sorrow.

 

He slowly began inching his way toward her, arms outstretched, ready to envelop her. He was aching to comfort her, but she still gripped the butt of his knife, and he was none too sure about the frame of mind she might be in. She could stab him in the heart if it struck her fancy. But his urge to hold her overrode his trepidation, and he finally took her in his arms, wrapping them around her waist and pressing her close to his bare skin.

 

The knife fell to the floor with a metallic clunk, and he felt the softness of her hair as it landed at his feet. She threw her arms around his neck and fell against his body. He supported her weight as she struggled to hold herself upright. Her face was hidden against his chest, but he could feel the streaks of warm teardrops running down his torso. Her sobs were barely perceptible, the only noise she made being the occasional sniffle.

 

Hancock placed his hand on the back of her head, digging his fingertips into her mangled hair. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

 

Scarlet's sobs ended abruptly as she realized what she had done. Even during Winlock's assault, she had been so focused on escape that it hardly bothered her. She thought it would be easy to forget. After the satisfaction of killing him, she figured she could move on with her life. After all, it was just sex, just the simple act of penetration. It was an unpleasant event, but an inevitable effect of her circumstances, and nothing more. It wouldn't affect her if she didn't let it.

 

But it had a deeper impact than what she realized. On a surface level, it was easy to suppress any bothersome memories that plagued her. She could find something else to think about. Analyze the psychological burden of her rape another day. It didn't make a difference, anyway. It had happened. It was over. Winlock was dead. And there was nothing she could do to change it.

 

When Hancock had grabbed her by the hair, the entirety of the horrible incident came flooding back to her. It was Winlock's hand she felt in her hair, Winlock's cock inside of her. Even though he was dead and gone, he still haunted her, his sickening grin flickering in the back of her head on a never-ending loop.

 

“It's not your fault,” she muttered, pulling her head away from his chest just enough to look into his eyes.

 

 _It's all my fault,_ he wanted to say. _You were there because of me. Because I loved you. It never would have happened if I had just stayed away..._

 

But it was pointless. All he could do now was be there for her. He rubbed his thumb along her cheek, smearing the trails that her tears had left behind. She seemed to have calmed down very quickly, probably in part due to the sudden shedding of her hair.

 

And it was rather liberating. By cutting off her ponytail, she felt like she was severing a dark piece of her past from her memory. It was a physical, tangible way for her to cope with what had happened, to help herself move past it. And strangely, as she put her hand up to feel the back of her head, she was more concerned about how she looked than anything else.

 

Hancock noted her reproachful scowl as she ran her fingers through her cropped hair. “Ya know, there's a barber in town. He can fix you up.”

 

Scarlet nodded gratefully. She started getting dressed and Hancock did the same. They got ready in total silence, neither one sure of what to say. But before they left their room, he made a point to stop and kiss her, attempting to convey every note of loving regret that plucked at his heartstrings. And underneath it all was a promise; he silently vowed that he would never let anything like that happen to her again.

 

* * *

 

 

“Heya, uh, Wolf? Is that right?”

 

Piper shouldered her way next to the workbench where Scarlet was busy modifying her pistol. After the barber had trimmed her hair to a flattering pixie cut, she visited the weapons merchant. She asked him if she could use his workbench, and he graciously allowed her to do so, providing she purchased the necessary parts from him.

 

“That's right,” she said flatly. She was focused on her work, and didn't like being interrupted. Hancock said nothing as he leaned on the wall next to her. Scarlet had told him she wanted to do something, anything to distract herself from the troubling events of that morning. This reporter seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

 

“I wanted to check up on you,” Piper went on. “Did you talk to Nick? Is he gonna help you find your son?”

 

“The detective's gone missing,” she stated, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

 

“Jesus, really?” She removed her cap long enough to scratch her head, then replaced it. “I'm sorry to hear that. It's a shame, all these folks losin' their loved ones. People being swapped out for synths. I dunno what their end game is, but the Institute has one creepy agenda.”

 

Scarlet's ears pricked up. Hancock had told her about the Institute before, and she had heard some idle gossip about their meddling in the Commonwealth. It seemed there were a lot of people who had disappeared, and everyone was quick to blame the mysterious organization. She wondered how people even knew about their existence, considering they had no known headquarters, no identifiable agents, no real presence other than what sprang from rumor and conjecture.

 

“What do you know about the Institute?” Scarlet asked. If the gossip was to be believed, they could be the ones responsible for kidnapping Shaun. It was a possibility she found difficult to ignore.

 

“Shh!” she hissed, putting a finger to her lips. “Not here.”

 

“But, you brought it up...”

 

“Look,” said Piper in a hushed voice, dismissing Scarlet's objection. “If you wanna talk more, come see me in my office. I can't say anything anymore without one of McDonough's cronies breathing down my neck.” She looked from side to side, then walked backwards into the marketplace. “I'm sorry, Miss!” she shouted, with the intention of everyone around her being able to hear. “I don't know where you can get this... 'Strange Meat' you're talking about!” She glanced at the passersby, who didn't seem to care about her dramatic display. Those that did notice her rolled their eyes and kept walking, unfazed and disinterested.

 

Piper placed both hands around her mouth and leaned forward, whispering loudly at Scarlet. “Meet me in my office!” Then she turned her back, walking briskly toward Publick Occurrences, collecting several suspicious looks on her way there.

 

Scarlet watched as the woman faded from her sight, turning a questioning eye toward Hancock. “What the hell was that about?” she asked him.

 

“She's a reporter, doll, and you got a story,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “She probably just wants to sucker you into an interview. Or, she might just have some info you could use...”

 

Scarlet sighed and returned to working on the laser pistol in front of her. “You think I should go see her?” she asked. That Piper woman was definitely a troublemaker, and had a knack for stretching the truth. But if she knew anything useful, anything that might help her find Shaun, it might just be worth wading through the bullshit to get there.

 

“I think it couldn't hurt,” he suggested.

 

Scarlet nodded, hunching over to examine the tiny fiber optic wires she was struggling to connect. “After I'm done here, we'll go talk to her.”

 

Hancock gave her a short grunt of affirmation. He hoped it wouldn't be a complete waste of time. But at the very least, it would give Scarlet something to think about other than the trauma she had relived just a few hours ago. He breathed deeply, wondering if he could ever forgive himself for what had happened. But in the long list of things he'd screwed up, what was one more item?

 

Once Scarlet appeared content with her modifications, they made their way toward Publick Occurrences. Piper's kid sister, Nat, was standing outside on a platform, waving the latest edition of the newspaper in the air.

 

“Extra, extra!” she shouted enthusiastically. She was the spitting image of her older sister, down to her straight black hair and newsboy cap.

 

Scarlet attempted to sneak by without being noticed. She wasn't in the mood for a sales pitch. But the girl thrust a paper in front of her face, stopping Scarlet dead in her tracks.

 

“Hey, Lady,” Nat yelled.

 

Scarlet tried not to roll her eyes and looked up at her. “What's up?”

 

“Here you go.” She gave the newspaper a shake, motioning for the woman to take it. Scarlet did so with some reluctance, tucking it under her arm. “Free paper to all newcomers,” Nat explained. “If the Institute grabs you in the night, don't say we didn't warn you.”

 

“Thanks,” she said, somewhat disingenuous. She pulled her cowboy hat down further over her eyes and went on her way, opening the red steel door to Piper's office.

 

The reporter was waiting inside, sitting on a sofa with crossed legs and smoking a cigarette. “Wolfie, you showed up!” She rose to meet Scarlet as she entered, grinning broadly.

 

“Well you did a pretty good job baiting me with all that Institute talk,” was her snarky response. She wasn't a fan of mystery and subterfuge, and preferred it when people spoke about things plainly. Piper seemed to relish it, though.

 

“I'm not tryin' to pull your leg,” she insisted, putting her hands on her hips. “I just wanted to let you know what you might be getting yourself into, if you keep looking for answers.”

 

“Why so secretive?” Scarlet asked dubiously.

 

“Because of that paper you're holdin',” she said, pointing at the document under her arm. “That's what got me kicked out of Diamond City. McDonough didn't like the not-so-subtle implication that he may or may not be a synth, working for the Institute.”

 

Scarlet raised an eyebrow, and she heard Hancock's coat rustling behind her. The reporter had definitely sparked the ghoul's curiosity with that one. “People generally don't like being accused of things,” she said flatly.

 

“Especially when they're guilty,” Piper retorted.

 

“Well do you have any proof?”

 

The reporter swung her arms at her sides, shifting her weight nervously between her feet. “Uh... not exactly hard proof.” Scarlet rolled her eyes at Piper, who waved her hands defensively. “But you gotta understand, I've been investigating these Institute creeps for over a year now. And the way I see it, there's too many red flags that point to him bein' a synth.”

 

Scarlet cleared her throat, attempting to bring the subject back around. “What's this got to do with my missing child?”

 

“Because I think the Institute's who kidnapped your son.”

 

Scarlet sighed impatiently. “What makes you think that?”

 

“'Cause the Institute's been kidnapping people for years. Sometimes they snatch people up in the middle of the night to use for their kooky experiments. Sometimes, they swap out a real human for a synthetic one. And we all just go about our business, not realizing that they've infiltrated us until it's too late!” Her voice rose ominously, emphasizing and likely exaggerating the danger.

 

But Scarlet thought back to a conversation she had with Hancock in Goodneighbor, when he first told her about the Institute. He'd pretty much said the same thing, without dressing it up.

 

Piper sensed that she still wasn't convinced. “If you want proof, talk to the people around Diamond City. A lot of them have lost someone to the Institute, or know someone who has.” Her voice dropped dolefully, and Scarlet thought it was the first time since meeting her that the reporter was being sincere.

 

“So where do I find the Institute?” she asked. If they were indeed the ones who took Shaun, the motive didn't really matter. She'd go straight to the source if she could.

 

“Now that's the million-dollar question,” Piper said cautiously, raising her index finger in the air. “No one knows where they are. Or how to get there.”

 

Scarlet looked back at John, who gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. He wasn't about to tell her what to think, especially when he didn't know more than anyone else. He didn't want to interfere with her decision-making when it came to finding her son. And honestly, he didn't have anything useful to add. Piper had pretty much summed it up.

 

But this was the first time he had heard the theory of McDonough being a synth. He found it intriguing, if improbable. “What's this about the Mayor?” he asked.

 

Piper's eyes sparkled mischievously at the ghoul. “You might find it particularly interesting, that being the reason he didn't wanna let you in.” She gave a cursory glance back at Scarlet. “I'm surprised you got him to cave, Wolfie. Not a lot of people can work McDonough over like that.”

 

“I think he just felt sorry for me,” she said modestly. She could summon up some charm after a few drinks, but trying to persuade people was usually an awkward experience.

 

“That may be. But the really weird thing is, he wasn't always like this. A bigoted asshole, I mean.” Piper tossed her head to the side, replacing a hand on her jutting hip. “You see, there used to be ghouls in Diamond City. Lots of 'em. They lived and worked like regular folk, and nobody batted an eye.”

 

Scarlet kept glancing back to read Hancock's expression. He was standing still with his hands clasped together in front of him, the lines of his face straight and unwavering, waiting for Piper to continue.

 

“But then, around eight or nine years ago, McDonough decides he's gonna run for mayor. His entire platform was based on driving the ghouls out of the city walls. He took the fears and prejudices of the upper crust and ran with it. 'Mankind for McDonough' was his little catch phrase. And before you know it, you got families with kids lining up to drag folks they called 'neighbor' out of their homes and throw 'em into the ruins.”

 

Piper's voice was tinged with bitterness, and Scarlet began to respect her a little just then. At least she wasn't part of the “ghoul-haters” club that seemed to be so popular. And she at least acted like she cared about the truth, even if she wanted to stretch it from time to time.

 

“Anyway, not long after that, people start turning up missing. And what does the mayor do? Not a damn thing,” Piper growled. “The reason being, he's a synth plant for the Institute. He and his security officers look the other way, and the Institute is free to do whatever they want.”

 

Scarlet held her chin in her hand and considered the information. On the surface, Piper's theory made sense. Though she wasn't about to jump to conclusions without substantial evidence, she thought it prudent to be more careful around the mayor in the future.

 

Piper whisked her hands to the side, palms down. “All I'm tryin' to say is, if you end up going after the Institute, you're probably gonna wind up dead if you're not careful. They got the moral compasses of a band of raiders, but unlike raiders, they got two centuries of technological progress to back 'em up.”

 

Scarlet dipped her head affirmatively. While her conversation with Piper had undoubtedly left her with more questions, it was something to consider. She resolved to keep her ear to the ground, and find out whatever she could about the mysterious Institute. And regardless of how hard they were to find, if they had Shaun, she _would_ track them down.

 

“I appreciate the info, Piper.”

 

“Don't mention it, Wolfie. Just try to stay safe out there. And... I hope you find your kid.”

 

Piper's face fell in genuine remorse. Scarlet suddenly felt bad about misjudging her. She was a good person deep down. And she was someone whose help she might need in the future.

 

“Thank you,” Scarlet said, managing a smile.


	6. Confidence Man

Scarlet sipped a glass of moonshine, going over the newspaper article Piper had written. _“The Synthetic Truth.”_ It recounted a story of a shooting in Diamond City, by a synth who was indistinguishable from a human.

 

“Whatdya think?” Hancock asked her as she set the paper on the bar.

 

“I don't know,” she admitted. “You'd think after all this time, people would at least have some idea where they're hiding.”

 

“True,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “But that's also given them a lot of time to hide. They got some pretty advanced tech, and not just the synths. They've been holed up in their lab doing research since the bombs dropped, or so I've been told.”

 

“What do you think about McDonough being a synth?” she asked somewhat timidly. She could now fully understand the depth of the rift that divided the brothers. John, being the beacon of morality that he was, didn't agree with the Mayor's political platform. It's what had driven him out of Diamond City in the first place, even though at that point he wasn't a ghoul himself.

 

“Now that's an interesting theory,” he mused, puffing his cigarette. “When he decided to run for office, I got the distinct impression that he was a changed man, and not for the better. I mean he was always a dick. But when I tried to talk to him, try to talk him outta what he was about to do... I didn't even recognize him anymore.”

 

Scarlet surreptitiously placed a hand on his knee. She couldn't imagine being forced to turn against your own family like that. And it must have made coming back to Diamond City especially difficult for him, knowing that his brother was still running the show.

 

“Ugh, finally!” Vadim's voice rang from behind the bar.

 

Scarlet and Hancock both gave him a questioning stare, while the other patrons appeared not to notice his outburst.

 

“It's six o'clock.” He walked down to their end of the bar, gesturing at the radio. “That horrible DJ Travis is off the air. Now I can listen to music.”

 

Scarlet felt sorry for the awkward radio announcer. Every time he came on between songs to read the news, she cringed out of embarrassment for him. Why he had chosen a career path that clearly made him miserably uncomfortable was anyone's guess. But she hadn't developed the annoyed resentment that everyone else seemed to have for him.

 

“You shouldn't be so mean to him,” Scarlet said with a touch of motherly authority.

 

“Tell me,” he said, standing in front of her, “He's terrible, yes? Makes you want to cut your own ears off?”

 

“Oh, here we go,” groaned his twin brother from nearby, coming over to throw in his own two cents.

 

“Quiet, Yefim,” he snapped at the man, the turned back to Scarlet. “It grates on ears like sandpaper. This DJ Travis, he is disaster!” He began wiping the surface of the bar with excessive force, then addressed his brother. “Something must be done, and soon. We will have customers suiciding before too long!”

 

“Vadim...”

 

“It's true,” he exclaimed, pointing vigorously at the ghoul and the woman in front of him. “Don't you listen to my brother. Someone needs to get rid of him. We need a new DJ for the radio.” He leaned in closer to them with a sly smile. “I don't think many would notice if he... you know... disappeared.”

 

“That's terrible!” Scarlet gasped indignantly. She stared daggers at Hancock, who was chuckling next to her.

 

“It would be so easy,” Vadim pleaded. “Just find a way to lead him out of town-”

 

“All right, that's enough!” Yefim interjected. He stepped behind the bar and shooed his brother aside. Scarlet looked clearly distressed, and he placed a calming hand in front of her. “Vadim isn't serious,” he told her soothingly. “He doesn't really want to kill Travis.”

 

Hancock and Vadim were sharing a hearty laugh, but Scarlet and Yefim shook their heads at the two. “It's not funny,” she scolded them.

 

“It's true,” said Vadim, wiping away a tear as his laughter slowly abated. “Only jokes. Travis is a good friend. Yefim and I worry about him.”

 

“Poor Travis,” Yefim sighed. “He means well, but he does not have the confidence he needs for that job. Or anything else really. He does not believe in himself, you see? He expects he will fail at everything, and so he does.”

 

“Poor guy,” Scarlet mumbled sympathetically, swallowing the rest of her drink. “What he needs is something to boost his self-esteem.”

 

“Exactly!” the bartender said emphatically. “This is what I am telling Yefim. I tell him that I have a plan. He does not believe me.”

 

Scarlet arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “A plan?”

 

Doing little to hide his irritation, Yefim pushed himself away from the bar and began moseying off. “I believe you have plan, but I'm not so sure that it is a good idea...”

 

Vadim swished a towel after his retreating brother. “Go on spoilsport. Go back to working. We will figure out how to help Travis.”

 

The man grumbled as he left, looking around for something to occupy himself. The bartender flung the towel in his hand over his shoulder, then rested on his forearm between Hancock and Scarlet. “Have another drink,” he said, sliding a moonshine bottle over and topping off their glasses. “We discuss plan. I'm glad you are willing to help, unlike my deadbeat brother. Travis is good guy. He deserves better life.”

 

Scarlet was already two drinks in and feeling pleasantly buzzed. The bartender's playful smile was infections, and she was readily intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

 

“Okay,” he began, shifting his eyes between the two of them. “So, Travis needs to believe in himself, yes? Believe he is capable of more. You know what works well for this?”

 

She shook her head, taking a large gulp of moonshine.

 

“A bar fight! Ever been in one?”

 

Scarlet nearly choked mid-swallow. She turned her head to Hancock, who was puffing calmly on a cigarette and casually nodding. After a couple wet coughs, she turned back to the bartender with a suspicious frown. “A bar fight?”

 

“Travis would get great confidence from winning a bar fight. You agree, John?”

 

He cast an expectant eye toward the ghoul, hoping he would back him up. Hancock shrugged his shoulders as he burned off the last of his cigarette down to the filter. “I guess so, yeah.”

 

“You want us... to get in a fight with him and lose on purpose?” The young women appeared uncertain, but the steady climbing of her blood alcohol level was keeping her enticed.

 

“Not exactly,” said Vadim. He went on with a more self-assured attitude, noting Scarlet's continued interest. “My plan is, we stage a fight. I know people who would be willing to take a dive for money. They will start pushing him around, and you two,” he pointed at them, “will come to back him up.”

 

“You gonna throw some caps our way, too?” Hancock chimed in.

 

“Well... maybe I let you drink for free?”

 

“Hang on a minute.” Scarlet's voice rose sharply, becoming stern. “There's no way I'm doing this. I've never been in a fist fight before. I'm gonna get my ass kicked.”

 

“He says he's gonna pay them to lose.” Hancock nudged her with his elbow and gave her a cocksure grin.

 

“Yeah, but I still gotta fight, don't I?”

 

“You do what you wanna do.” He shrugged his shoulders dismissively and drained the contents of his glass. “I think it sounds like fun.”

 

“Then why don't you do it,” she chided. “I'll just sit back and watch from a safe distance.”

 

“C'mon,” he goaded, “Quit actin' like a chicken. You're tougher than that.”

 

Scarlet huffed and crossed her arms, glaring at Hancock through narrowed eyes. “Why are you so anxious to see me get hurt?”

 

“'Cause I think this Travis guy ain't the only one who needs a little boost of confidence,” he said. His lips flattened into a straight line, and his raspy voice dropped, becoming serious. “Personally, I think you could use the experience. You never know what kinda trouble you might get into out in the Commonwealth. And I'd rather you have your first fight with a couple of paid goons than a pack of raiders.”

 

Vadim had wandered off, filling drink orders for some other customers, while he let the two of them work it out. He kept an ear focused in their direction, casting the occasional glance their way.

 

Scarlet slid her fingers beneath her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She exhaled a defeated groan before finishing her liquor, then raised the glass up to catch the bartender's attention. “If I'm gonna get in a bar fight, I might as well be drunk.”

 

“That's the spirit!” Vadim snatched the moonshine from behind the counter, pouring her a generous helping of the clear liquid.

 

Scarlet tossed her head back, grimacing as the fiery brew burned its way down. Then, slamming the empty tumbler on the bar, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. A shudder of fear combined with the strength of the liquor quivered down her back, and she stared at the empty glass with nervous anticipation.

 

Hancock leaned in, looking around before brushing his hand along her thigh. “It's okay, Sunshine.” His breath fell calmly on her ear. “I'll be right there if things get outta hand.”

 

His assurance did little to ease her mind. _This is gonna fucking suck..._

 

After topping off her drink, Vadim left the bar and sought out two men from the growing crowd at the Dugout Inn. Scarlet was intimidated just by what she saw as her eyes followed the three men to a back room; they were all muscle, leather, and denim, strutting like displaying peacocks. She took another swallow of moonshine. _What have I gotten myself into?_

 

Vadim had told them Travis was due to arrive any minute. His daily routine included having a few beers at the Dugout after going off the air. Even with all of the alcohol, her heart was racing like she had taken a hit of Psycho. The fact that she had so little time to mentally prepare herself was throwing her into a panic attack. In an effort to stave it off, she hastily finished the rest of the moonshine in her glass.

 

“Another...” she slurred when the bartender returned some minutes later.

 

Hancock raised his hand toward Vadim, ushering him to lower the bottle in his hand. “I think you've had enough for now, Sunshine,” he said firmly. “You don't wanna get so messed up that you can't even see where you're swingin'.”

 

“Look, there is our man now.” The bartender nodded toward the entrance, and in walked a scrawny, weasel of a man in a red Letterman’s jacket, his eyes darting around timidly as if he were seeing the place for the first time. Scarlet felt a twinge of sympathy as she went over his features. He did look pretty pathetic, with his scraggly brown hair, sunken eyes, and an awkward beak of a nose. His appearance perfectly matched his radio personality. Even if she wasn't expecting him, she doubted he could ever be confused for anyone else.

 

He seated himself in an armchair in the lounge and a young, somewhat plain-looking waitress with bobbed blonde hair approached him to take his order. Scarlet thought the girl might have been flirting with him, the way she smiled when she asked him what he wanted. But Travis didn't seem to notice and stared at his feet while he spoke to her.

 

“Give them few minutes.” The bartender snapped his fingers in Scarlet's ear, and she jumped a little before turning to him. “Try not to stare. I don't want him to get suspicious.”

 

She tried to keep facing forward, but couldn't help herself from peeking every now and again as she waited, her fingers tapping against the counter. Hancock looked as relaxed as she had ever seen him, lighting another smoke and sipping his drink. A cigarette probably would have been helpful, but she wasn't confident that she could hold it steady enough to get it to her mouth.

 

Scarlet couldn't hear much over the pounding of her heart in her own ears, but she thought she heard some heckling going on over the regular hum of conversation. Stealing a brief look, she could see the two men Vadim had been talking to standing in front of Travis, who had risen from his armchair and now stood behind it. The beer in his hand shook a little and he swayed back and forth.

 

She couldn't pick out exactly what they were saying, but they were obviously tormenting the poor man. Heeding Vadim's request, she swiveled back around on her bar stool. “What should we say?” she asked Hancock, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

 

“ _We're_ not gonna say anything,” he stated bluntly. “ _You're_ gonna push your way in there, give those guys some shit, and convince that fuckin' pushover to stand up for himself. And when they try to start a fight, you punch 'em in the throat.”

 

Scarlet swallowed thickly. She almost hated him for roping her into this, but it was too late to back out now. And maybe it was just the liquor, but she was angry at the men for picking on him. She was feeling protective, motherly, even. It didn't take much for her to rise to her feet, turn on her heel, and march right over to the three of them, her face set with conviction.

 

“Aww, what's wrong? Not so tough when you're off the air, are ya Travis?” said the man wearing a black leather jacket, puffing out his chest and leaning toward the DJ menacingly.

 

“I...” Travis stammered. “L-look. I-I don't want any t-trouble.”

 

“What the fuck's going on here?” Scarlet thrust herself into the mix, settling next to the shrinking young man, Hancock just behind her. The adrenaline was enough to get her to speak without slurring, but she was still slightly dizzy from intoxication.

 

Travis appeared flustered, albeit grateful, at her sudden presence. “W-who are you?”

 

“I'm here to give you a hand,” she said to him. “And teach these assholes a thing or two,” she added, re-directing her attention to his harassers.

 

“I... I don't know what I did to deserve this,” he said to her with a pleading stare. “I just wish they'd go away.” He was sniveling in a way that almost irritated her. She was beginning to understand why people disliked him so much. “I don't want any trouble,” he said meekly, regarding the men in front of him.

 

“Well that's too bad, cause you got it,” said the other man, who wore a tan duster and cowboy boots.

 

“If you want them to go away, tell them,” she insisted.

 

“I don't know...” he leaned in close to her, his voice small and hushed. “It might not end well.”

 

Her first instinct was to slap him in the face. Her second was to run to the bathroom and puke her guts out. But she swallowed her trepidation, and summoned every bit of inebriated courage she could. “Don't worry,” she said lowly, flashing him a confident smile. “I got your back.”

 

He ran his eyes over her in stunned silence. He couldn't believe anyone would bother to stand up for him like this, least of all this beautiful stranger. Realizing his mouth was open, he snapped it shut. “If... if you say so.”

 

Scarlet folded her arms and nudged his back with her elbow, sending him staggering forward. If this plan was going to work, he would have to be the one to provoke the first blow. He would have to stand up for himself if he was going to walk away with a healthier ego.

 

“Alright... W-well...” he began, slowly leveling his eyes to his attackers. “That's enough.”

 

“Oh, I'm sorry,” mocked the man in the leather jacket. “Did you say somethin'?”

 

“I said...” Travis' voice was still shaking, but he increased his volume and stood up straighter. “I said, that's enough. Leave me alone.”

 

“Hahaha, look at you!” the man responded with a scathing smile. “Hmm. Let me think about that for a second.” He put his hand on his chin and looked up to the ceiling, feigning contemplation. “Nah.” He reached his resolution quickly, then sneered at the DJ. “I don't think so.”

 

Travis darted his eyes to Scarlet, who nodded expectantly at the two men, prompting him to continue. “I...” he turned back to them, attempting to be brave. “I mean it! Leave me alone!”

 

The man rolled his shoulders and took a threatening step toward Travis. “It sounded like you were gonna say, 'Or else.'” He snickered, then pursed his lips in a sarcastic pout. “Were ya, Travis? Were you gonna say, 'Or else?' I'm wonderin' what comes after that. Whatchya gonna do, little man?”

 

“I... I'll beat you up!” His voice was shaking horribly, but he was doing his best, and Scarlet even felt a little proud of him just then.

 

“Big mistake, Travis.” He leaned in, sticking his stubby finger in the DJ's face. “I'm gonna destroy you,” he gritted his teeth and looked at Scarlet, “ _and_ your friend here.”

 

Even as drunk as she was, Scarlet was one step ahead. As he raised his fist to strike, she was already coming forward with a punch of her own, aiming straight for his neck as Hancock had instructed.

 

But her wild swing was easily avoided. He opened his fist and caught hers, whirling her around until her back was to him. Then he yanked her arm down, twisting it back, then up, until it was painfully wrenched against her body.

 

She suppressed her scream, and it came out as a high-pitched bark. Off to the side, Hancock was engaging with the man in the duster. The ghoul punched him in the face and he staggered back from the blow. Then, pressing his advantage, he snatched the man by the lapel of his coat and flung him around. His arms waved wildly, trying to maintain his balance, but he tripped against the leg of a coffee table and crashed to the floor, landing on his shoulder and grimacing in pain.

 

Scarlet's attacker had her paralyzed in his grip. He grabbed her by the back of the neck with his free hand and forced her down until she was on her knees.

 

Then, out of nowhere came Travis. A comically strange yell ripped from his throat as he lunged at the man, connecting his knuckles with his temple.

 

He released his hold of her arm and floundered back. She wasn't sure if his pain was entirely genuine as he rubbed the side of his head, but she jolted back up to her feet, rubbing her overstretched limb back to life.

 

Travis went to take another shot, but the man ducked low to avoid it, taking the opportunity to sweep a foot beneath the DJ and knock him to the ground. He groaned as he hit the floor, then gasped as the man grabbed him by his collar and drew him up. He snarled and charged forward until he had the young man's back up against the wall.

 

Scarlet's head snapped over to Hancock, who was still busy wrestling with his opponent. She whipped around to look at Travis, who was pinned helplessly between the flat surface behind him and the snarling thug in front of him. He had been hoisted up high enough that his feet were dangling off the floor.

 

Without thinking, Scarlet careened towards them and leaped onto the man's back. With her arms and legs busy holding onto him, she did the only thing she could think of, and sunk her teeth as hard as she could into his neck.

 

The man released his hold on Travis. Roaring with agony, he tried to pry her hands off him, bucking around like a wild bull, desperately trying to get her off his back.

 

She had latched onto him so tightly that he couldn't shake her, and the stinging of her teeth in his neck was more than he could stand. He whirled his elbow up and back, and the impact landed with a crushing force squarely on her nose.

 

The shock of it made her lose her hold and she fell to her back. Her hat was thrown from her head, and her glasses were crookedly clinging to her face.

 

Travis took his opportunity and smashed his fist into the man's gut with all the strength he could manage. The thug dropped to a knee, bracing his arms against his abdomen when Travis pulled away.

 

Hancock was now straddling his opponent's chest. The man was limp and moaning in pain, but the ghoul gave him one more blow to the jaw for good measure before getting up. Seeing Scarlet splayed out on the ground, he darted over to her and offered her a hand.

 

Travis stood over the slumped body of his attacker. His slender frame was pulsing with each angry breath. His arms were taught and held out to the side, his hands still curled into tight fists. He was painted with a mixture of shock and vengeance, and his voice squeaked before lowering into seething growl. “N-now you get outta here!”

 

“This is bullshit,” said the man in the black jacket through clenched teeth. His partner had managed to roll to his stomach, and began the process of scraping himself off the floor. Mumbling curses under their breath, the two of them stumbled toward the front door, then spilled out into the marketplace, defeated.

 

The whole place was buzzing with excitement at what they had just witnessed. They stood a safe distance back from the three victors, talking exuberantly about what they had just seen. Travis was finally starting to calm down, and he watched the two who had come to his defense with grateful interest.

 

Scarlet took hold of Hancock's hand, and he pulled her up into a sitting position. She adjusted her glasses, then reached behind her for her hat. “You okay?” he asked.

 

After repositioning her hat, she put her fingers up to her aching nose. Feeling something wet, she drew her hand back and examined it. Her fingertips were soaked in bright red blood.

 

Rather than being upset, she turned her hand around and waved it in front of Hancock, a pleased grin on her face. “I'm bleeding!” she said boastfully.

 

Hancock grinned at the way her face lit up. They had succeeded not only in getting the unassertive DJ to stand up for himself, but he had also gotten Scarlet to face another one of her fears. And the results were wonderfully gratifying. He beamed at her, acknowledging her hard-won satisfaction by the blood on her hand. “That you are.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It's been a really shitty day,” Scarlet sighed as Hancock dabbed at her nose with a damp cloth.

 

They sat on the bed with their legs folded. Scarlet had stripped down to her flannel and underwear, and Hancock was in nothing but a pair of boxers.

 

“Yes it has,” he agreed. He placed a hand under her chin to steady her face as he gently wiped away the blood.

 

“I hate it here,” she grumbled.

 

He could understand why. Ever since they arrived at the gate, they had gotten nothing but trouble and disappointment. Hancock was satisfied that they had done everything in Diamond City that they could before going after Valentine. Whatever other supplies or tools they needed, they could get in Goodneighbor.

 

“We'll leave first thing in the morning, Sunshine.” She exhaled heavily, her brows relaxing as a rush of relief came over her. She had hoped he would be ready to leave. It wasn't as if Diamond City was very kind to him, either. “We should be able to make it to Goodneighbor before sundown.”

 

Scarlet winced as Hancock brushed against the end of her nose. It hadn't quite broken, but there would definitely be a bruise.

 

He paused, noticing her discomfort, but couldn't help smiling at her. Regardless of how much she had to drink to get enough courage, she had taken her knocks like a champ. “I'm proud of you, you know that?”

 

She smiled modestly in response and lowered her head, trying to hide her eyes. “Really? I got beat up pretty bad.”

 

“You gave just about as good as you got.” He put the towel back to her nose and resumed cleaning her face. “I like a girl who fights dirty.”

 

“That's cause you have a dirty mind,” she giggled.

 

Hancock finished up and sat back, taking one last look to make sure he had gotten all the blood. She was sobering up, and much of the color had gone from her cheeks, highlighting the freckles against her pale skin. He took a moment to appreciate her loveliness. Her round blue eyes absorbed every speck of light that the lamp was giving off, and seemed to radiate behind the lenses of her glasses. Her petite nose was beginning to swell a little, but it still curved adorably upward at the tip. Her jaw rounded effortlessly into her chin, and the beautiful shape of her face was perfectly framed by the new haircut she had gotten earlier that day. He liked her with short hair. It allowed him to absorb her features without any interference. And the cropped tresses seemed to reflect more light, making it look even redder than before.

 

But her hair was also a reminder of what had happened that morning. It nagged at him. He felt like he was walking on eggshells now, afraid to say or do something that might set her off again. It had scared him, the way she acted. And he didn't want to accidentally trigger another incident.

 

She had never spoken about it, though. She never told him the whole story about what happened at Haymarket. Scarlet preferred to repress her negative memories, and while he understood why, he thought in this case it was unhealthy. If she continued to let it fester, let it build inside of her, she might act out again, and maybe more violently. John was no stranger to running from things that upset him. He had done it more often than he cared to admit. But it never helped anything. It only made his pain worse. Only made his regrets grow deeper.

 

“You're tougher than you think, you know that?” Hancock knew she had been through a lot in a very short amount of time. But even in her darkest hours, she pushed her way through and did what had to be done. He was still astounded by the message she had left in the holotape, and with some feat of cunning she had managed to escape and arm herself before Hancock had even found her.

 

“I can definitely take an elbow to the face,” she joked, dodging his compliment. As much as she liked hearing his praise, she was still unused to it, and every time he complimented her it made her slightly embarrassed.

 

“I'm not just talking about tonight.” He paused for a few seconds, and Scarlet hung onto the silence, noting his irresolute inflection. He looked away from her as if to gather his thoughts, but she waited patiently for him to continue. “The way you handled yourself with the Gunners. You did good.”

 

Scarlet's stomach knotted and a ball formed in the back of her throat. She pressed her lips tightly together and looked down at her hands. She was ashamed of what had happened that morning. It wasn't like her to behave so irrationally, and she regretted putting Hancock through the awkward scene.

 

And she loathed him for bringing it up again. Before today, she had almost been able to purge the entire incident from her mind. She was happy to forget it. When he pulled her hair, it was an unfortunate accident; he couldn't have known that it would upset her. _She_ didn't even know it would upset her. But now he was sitting there and confronting her with it.

 

“I know you don't wanna talk about it,” he said, taking one of her hands and enveloping it in the two of his. “I get it. Honestly, I don't wanna talk about it either. But you gotta talk about it sometime. You can't keep avoiding it. You can't just pretend like it didn't happen. It did.”

 

Scarlet sniffled as tears threatened her eyes, the taste of blood in the back of her mouth. She met his searching gaze at some length, her mouth tight with stubborn denial. “I just wanna forget about it,” she said flatly.

 

“You really scared the shit out of me today, Sunshine.” He held her hand tighter, trying to convey his seriousness. “If you keep pushing it down, it's just gonna find another way to boil up outta ya.”

 

She pulled her hand away and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her eyes were shut, her chin tucked against her chest.

 

“You need to tell me what happened.”

 

It fell softly from his lips, but she could tell it wasn't a request. And she knew he was right. There wasn't any hope of moving past it without talking about it. And if she couldn't open up to John, the man she loved more than she could ever put into words, then who could she talk to?

 

She removed her glasses and set them on the nightstand. Then, after rubbing her closed eyes, she opened them and met his charcoal stare once again. “Can I have some jet, first?”

 

Hancock got up and retrieved an inhaler from his pack, extended his arm, holding it flat in his palm. Shaking its contents, she put the mouthpiece to her lips and sucked in a deep breath, allowing the chem to blaze its way up the back of her neck and seep into her brain. A light fog rolled over her consciousness, and time slowed to a crawl. Her tense muscles relaxed almost instantly as she exhaled the vapor. Taking a deep breath of clean air, she handed it back to Hancock.

 

It had been a few days since he had taken any jet. It used to be a nightly thing, but lately, he hadn't bothered. He had wanted to keep his senses sharp while he was enjoying his newly found intimacy with Scarlet. Sex on jet was undeniably fun, but until he was satisfied with getting to know her body completely, he didn't want anything tainting the experience.

 

But if she was going to talk, he would have to take some, too. It was almost as difficult for him to hear as it was for her to say, but it had to be done. And he wasn't going to let her go through it alone.

 

As he finished the contents of the inhaler, he laid back in the bed, inviting her to snuggle in next to him with his outstretched arms. She nearly collapsed against him, pressing her cheek to his scar-streaked chest, and began recounting what had happened during her time held prisoner by the Gunners, sparing no detail.


	7. Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short, angsty chapter with lots of feels and light smut.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Fahrenheit demanded, hoisting her minigun up to her hip. Hancock and Scarlet had just entered the front gate, and were immediately spotted by the stone-faced bodyguard.

 

“Just had to take care of some personal business,” said Hancock. He raised his hands up in surrender and sauntered over to her, trying to disarm her with a friendly smile.

 

“You wanna warn me next time you decide to take off?” she huffed. “I been tryin' to keep a lid on things, but people have been askin' questions. And I don't know how to answer 'em.”

 

“I've only been gone for what, three days?” Hancock crossed his arms and stared at her incredulously. “I've disappeared for longer than that.”

 

“Yeah, but you always told people where you were goin'. You can't just up and leave like that, Hancock.”

 

Hancock couldn't help smiling at her. It was more likely that she was worried about him, and he thought it was kind of cute. She was loyal to a fault, and he'd take the occasional nagging to keep her watching his back. “I'm sorry, Fahr,” he said. “I didn't mean to leave ya hanging.”

 

“Argh!” Fahrenheit rolled her eyes, then stomped an irritated foot on the pavement. “Just maybe give me a head's up next time, okay?” She nodded her head toward Scarlet, who was watching the interaction with bemusement. “How you doin', Wolfie? You alright?”

 

She was genuinely touched by Fahrenheit's acknowledgment. She knew Hancock had a lot of respect for her, being trusted with the dangerous task of protecting him. They hadn't spent an awful lot of time together, but Scarlet wanted them to be friends. She was cool and aloof at her best, and dementedly violent at her worst, so even the barest shred of recognition was enough to send Scarlet over the moon.

 

“I'm fine, thank you.” She attempted to keep from smiling too broadly, as Fahrenheit might find it off-putting.

 

“Well now that you're back,” she continued, addressing the mayor, “I'm gonna go to the rail and get shit-faced.”

 

“Have fun!” he called after her as she retreated down the street.

 

“Sorry if I caused any trouble,” said Scarlet. She was the reason he had left town in such a hurry, after all.

 

“Don't worry about it, doll. I've taken off before without tellin' anyone. She's just pissed cause she had to work overtime.”

 

“Ghoul and Lady are back!” The vibration of heavy footsteps shook the ground as Strong came bounding toward them, sledgehammer in tow.

 

“It's nice to see you too, Strong,” Scarlet said, giving him a wave.

 

“You find that milk yet, pal?” asked Hancock. He couldn't resist teasing the super mutant, who, despite the fact that he was a dangerous behemoth, had the intellectual capacity of a six-year-old.

 

“Strong not find milk yet,” he answered, looking somewhat sad. “But strong smash mole rat! And radroach!”

 

“I'm glad we got you on pest control,” chuckled the mayor. Even though he hadn't been gone long, he was happy to be back in a place where he wasn't automatically treated like a filthy criminal. It had been nice to revisit some of his old haunts and see his friends the Bobrov brothers again, but he'd had as much as he could stand of the turning heads and harsh whispers as he walked through town.

 

The sun was just starting to be obstructed by the city's skyline when they arrived. KLEO and Daisy were getting ready to close for the day, and most of the citizens were on their way to the Third Rail for their nightly debauchery.

 

“It's good to be home,” mused Scarlet, taking a deep, contented breath.

 

Hancock's heart swelled in his throat. She thought of Goodneighbor as her home. The notion overjoyed him. It meant she thought of him as permanent, that his bed was her bed, and that he had taken care of her well enough to make her feel like she belonged somewhere in this fucked-up wasteland. The admission almost made him shed a tear as he took her by the hand and led her home, to the Old State House.

 

Before they reached the door, a woman's voice beckoned from the street corner. “Heya, Hancock!”

 

Scarlet let go of his hand, startled by the sound. She listened to the rhythmic clacking of her high heels as she came into view; she was tall and buxom, with sandy-brown skin and bright red lips. Her wavy black hair hung down to the middle of her back, and she ran her fingers through it seductively as she stopped in front of the ghoul.

 

“Heya, Angie,” he responded, none to happily. He put his hands in his pockets, and his brows hung lowly over his eyes.

 

“Where've you been, sweetie?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She was wearing a short skirt that showed off her astoundingly long longs, and a T-shirt that was so tight her ample bosom threatened to rip the fabric.

 

Scarlet was immediately overcome with jealousy. She tried not to let it show and bit the inside of her lip as she watched the interaction. _That woman had better keep her hands to herself..._

 

“You know me,” he said amiably. “I got trouble to get into all over the Commonwealth.”

 

Hancock didn't want to be rude. This woman was a long-time citizen of Goodneighbor, after all. But they had a history. He'd often visit Angie when he was having a dry spell, or if he had just ended one of his brief affairs. She had come to Goodneighbor initially because she had a self-described 'thing for ghouls,' and Hancock was more than happy to indulge her fantasies.

 

He knew who it was the moment he heard her voice. But he was acutely aware of Scarlet standing beside him. He felt pretty exposed just then, trapped between the two women with no easy way out of the situation.

 

“Ya know, it's been a long time...” she crooned, coming in closer. She traced one of her long fingernails over the breast of his coat, and tipped her head to the side coquettishly. “How 'bout we take another tour of the town?”

 

Scarlet's face burned at the euphemistic lilt in the woman's voice. Her molars ground together and she fumed inwardly, but didn't speak up. She wondered if this “Angie” could see her standing there, or had seen her holding hands with Hancock only seconds before. Was she completely oblivious, or did she just not give a shit?

 

Hancock cleared his throat. He shifted backwards just enough so that she was no longer touching him. She simply smiled and put her hands on her hips, poking one of them out to accentuate the curve of it.

 

“Sorry.” Hancock's voice was firm, while maybe a little too apologetic for Scarlet's taste. “I ain't a tourin' ghoul anymore. The one I got ain't the type you go wandering on.”

 

In an instant, Scarlet's insides went to mush and the heat of her anger disappeared. If she still needed proof that Hancock wanted to be faithful to her, this was it. Considering who he was, his history, and all of his baggage, it was one of the sweetest things he could possibly say.

 

Angie pouted and clasped her hands behind her back. “Aww, that's too bad.” She overemphasized her disappointment before hopping up on her toes, and her breasts bounced a little as she came back down on her heels. “Well if you change your mind,” she smiled, “You know where to find me.”

 

Angie turned her back to them and walked off, swaying her hips as she went. Hancock looked down at his feet and strode urgently to the State House, as if he were trying to escape another awkward confrontation, and Scarlet hurried after him.

 

After they entered the parlor and shed their packs, Hancock made a B-line for the liquor cabinet, grabbing the closest bottle within reach. He twisted off the cap and took a swig, making a slight face at the aftertaste. “I'm sorry about that, Sunshine,” he said somberly.

 

Scarlet could tell he felt guilty, and found it kind of endearing, if unnecessary. She slunk her way up behind him and placed a hand against his lower back, rubbing upward until she reached his shoulder. She tugged at it gently, encouraging him to turn and face her.

 

She stood up on her toes and placed a pure, affectionate kiss against his rough lips. “I love you.”

 

The first time she said those words, he was in the process of ending their relationship. She had uttered it as a last-ditch effort to change his mind, to keep him from severing ties with her. And it had almost worked.

 

And then he remembered what he said to her in response. _“I don't love you.”_

 

Hancock grabbed her by the face with both hands and pulled her in until their mouths collided. A soft moan hummed its way from his lips to hers, and her mouth opened up to him in response. She leaned against his body as he imbibed everything he could, from the taste of her tongue to the scent of her skin. His tongue probed hers, caressing it, lapping over it, then sweeping across her lips as he broke away from her face.

 

He was breathing so fast he was almost panting. He still held her face in his hands and examined her expression. She was ready for him, eager. Her mouth was still slightly open, ready for another searing kiss. Her eyelashes fluttered amorously against her cheeks, every now and then widening enough for him to see her expanding pupils.

 

And yet he wasn't sure how to proceed. Just a few days ago, he had grabbed her by the throat and fucked her with abandon. He had left imprints of his hand against her supple bottom. And he could still see the mark he left on her, hiding halfway beneath the collar of her shirt.

 

But everything had come to a grinding halt when he pulled her hair, and reawakened the memories she was trying to suppress. Last night, she told him everything. It was almost more than he could bear. Guilt, regret, pity, rage, it all came to him in unexpected bursts, and he felt powerless to overcome it, let alone help Scarlet.

 

He was almost afraid to touch her now. Before, it was swept under the rug. But now it was all out in the open, and he couldn't trust himself to read her anymore. He felt like he would have to start all over again, building her trust back to a point where they could truly reclaim their intimacy.

 

Hancock led her to his bed, taking care to undress her slowly, pausing to assess her mood between each article he removed. She gave him smile after encouraging smile, noting how hesitant he was. Last night's confession had left her emotionally raw and exposed, but it didn't change the way she felt about him. While she appreciated his desire to handle her with care, she wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. She was still his, still wet and hungry for his cock, and having finally said out loud what had happened to her, she felt like she could truly begin to let it go.

 

Scarlet _could_ let it go. Hancock, however, could not.

 

Once she was completely undressed, Hancock removed his hat and his coat before sliding into bed with her. He held her tightly around the waist and showered her face with adoring kisses. He tepidly traced the line of her body with his palm, pausing intermittently to look into her eyes.

 

His lips traveled down her chin to her throat, absorbing the vibrations of her soft moans through the skin as he nibbled at it. With one arm still lassoed around her waist, he began exploring her body with the other. He started with her bottom, tenderly stroking the silky flesh, before moving up to her breasts. His fingertips barely danced along the end of her nipple, amplifying her growing desire.

 

He caressed her stomach, eliciting a few giggles as he accidentally brushed against her ticklish spots. Then, he crept downward until his hand rested lightly between her thighs, his fingers settling just outside of her folds.

 

Scarlet responded by nudging her hips toward his hand, inviting him to explore her. Her expanding wetness trickled from her inner lips to the end of his finger. Judging her ready enough to continue, he parted her folds with the spread of his hand, letting his middle finger trace along her slit from the top of her opening to her swollen clitoris.

 

Hancock tightened his hold as she gasped, pulling her body against his until they were smashed against each other. Scarlet tossed her head back with a heady moan, allowing Hancock to rest his lips against her neck as he fingered her. He was careful not to penetrate her, keeping up the stimulation by circling her opening before rising to rub against her aching clit.

 

The steady repetition of his movements was riling her up, layering upon itself with each pass. The sensation was made even more exquisite by the feeling of her body pressed fervently against his. Hancock increased his pace, darting along her slit between her dripping pussy and her sensitive bud. As she ascended to the summit of her pleasure, she sought out his mouth with her lips, wanting as many points of contact with him as she could.

 

She was too overwhelmed with pleasure to focus on kissing him, though, and he too focused on his ministrations. They simply rested their half-open mouths against each other. Once she felt the heat of his breath washing over her tongue, she could no longer contain her ecstasy. Her hips bucked against his hand and she grabbed him by the shoulders. Her moans grew louder, higher, not stopping until she was practically wailing into his mouth, and the walls of her pussy shuddered and pulsed as sweet release finally came.

 

Hancock slowed his movements, drawing out her pleasure as long as he could until the motion of her hips began to quell. He tapered off his touch gradually. He ran his finger between her folds and just barely skimmed over the hood of her now hypersensitive clitoris, jolting her with an aftershock that spurned one last thrust of her hips.

 

Once Scarlet was sighing contentedly against him, he took his hand away from between her thighs and raised it to her face. She opened her mouth, beckoning him to give her his moistened finger. She sucked against it once before he removed it, then put it to his own lips, savoring the flavor of her until there was none left.

 

She smiled and closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his. It had been another day of walking non-stop, and before long, Scarlet was fast asleep in his arms. But Hancock lay awake for hours, plagued by dark, irrational thoughts that threatened to destroy the intimacy he had built with her. He had lost himself in the effort of helping her move on, neglecting to help himself toward the same goal.

 

Eventually sleep came to him, but it was troubled. He hoped, for the sake of them both, that he could find a way to forgive himself for all the things she had suffered and lost.


	8. Unlikely Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for there to be smut, but it just happened. I have absolutely no control over this any more, you guys.

“You think we have enough stimpacks?” asked Scarlet, running her hand along the barrel of her laser pistol.

 

“That depends. How bad do you plan on getting hurt?”

 

“Just answer the question,” she demanded tersely. Of course she was anxious to get this done. Even with Hancock's constant reassurance, she had her doubts about rescuing the detective in time. She dreaded the idea of finding him dead, or not being able to find him at all.

 

“I packed way more than we're gonna need,” said Hancock, taking a frag grenade from his pack and placing it in his pocket. They were as ready as they possibly could be. Park Street Station was only a few blocks south of Goodneighbor, and they took ample time to prepare themselves that morning. Scarlet had her newly modified laser pistol, and had hidden her 10mm in her leg armor for backup. Hancock carried enough shotgun shells to blast his way through just about anything, and stocked himself generously with explosives.

 

“Now Triggermen usually like to carry machine guns,” he explained. “So if I were you, I'd let them empty their clips before you try to shoot back.”

 

Scarlet nodded and took a deep breath. She would never not be terrified of going into battle. As good as Hancock was, and as much as she was improving, she knew that all it would take is one well-placed bullet to end her life. Her fate was on a razor's edge, and she couldn't shake the sense of impending doom no matter how hard she tried.

 

“It's gonna be okay, Sunshine.” He could tell she was nervous, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Her fear of combat was something only she could overcome, and no amount of reassurance from him would assuage it. “Just stay behind me. I'll draw their fire, and you pick 'em off.”

 

Scarlet nodded and readied her pistol in her hands. The quietly nudged open the subway station doors and slipped in, hoping to catch their enemies by surprise.

 

The pair tiptoed down a broken escalator toward a narrow entryway. Just behind the walls echoed the voices of three or so men, some of them with the tell-tale rasp of ghoulishness. Hancock crouched just outside the doorway and silently motioned for Scarlet to come forward, taking up a position across from him.

 

Craning to establish a line of sight, Hancock slipped his hand into his pocket and removed a grenade. He bit the pin between his teeth and yanked, then tossed the armed explosive into the center of the room.

 

Scarlet ducked her head and put her hands over her ears as the grenade exploded.

 

_“_ _What the fuck? Who's there?”_

 

Hancock had been peeking from behind the wall when the gunfire began, ripping rhythmically out of their machine guns and crashing over each other like stampeding hooves. Hancock whipped his back against the wall to avoid the barrage, holding his shotgun to his chest.

 

Scarlet instinctively stayed as low as possible and watched as a hailstorm of bullets pelted the escalator they had just walked down. She looked over to Hancock for direction.

 

“Get ready!” he shouted to her over the cacophony. Scarlet crouched on her toes and wiped her sweaty palms against her shirt, then held the pistol tight in her hands.

 

The silence between bullets was getting longer, and the gunfire had almost stopped entirely when Hancock jumped into the doorway, his shotgun raised to his face as he swept the room. Scarlet poked her head around the corner and stayed down. She saw a ghoul in suspenders and slacks taking cover behind a caged ticket counter, and his head was poking up just high enough that she could probably take him out, so long as she managed not to hit the wire.

 

Scarlet took a deep breath and lined up the shot using the sights she had added. Then, trying to recall her shooting lessons with MacCready, she squeezed the trigger, exhaling as she did.

 

The sights worked perfectly. Her aim was dead on, and a curl of steam rose from the Triggerman's head as the laser seared into his skull.

 

In the time it took her to kill one, Hancock had taken out the other three. There was hardly any time between the thundering booms of his shotgun, and they all dropped to the ground almost simultaneously.

 

An eerie silence followed. This area was clear, unless there was someone lying in wait for them. Hancock noiselessly beckoned for Scarlet to follow him as he hugged the wall and headed towards the staircase.

 

No sooner had they attempted to round the corner of the stairs than they were met by another chorus of gunfire. Hancock crouched back into cover and fished for another grenade. He pulled the pin out and tossed it blindly over his shoulder, and it came to rest somewhere down on the station platform below.

 

 _“_ _Heads up!”_ one of them yelled.

 

Scarlet braced herself for another explosion. The wall behind her trembled and she was worried for a moment that the subway tunnel may collapse. But everything looked like it was holding together, and she timidly raised her head and readied herself for another fight.

 

Hancock stood up abruptly and jumped from behind the corner, exposing himself to the Triggermen's assault. She wondered how it was he managed to avoid getting shot as he fired off two rounds, then ducked back behind the wall to reload.

 

The gunfire was slowing down. Scarlet reached into her pack and pulled out the molotov cocktail Hancock had packed for her. While he finished sliding a couple shells into the barrel, Scarlet lit the end of the explosive and darted out, just long enough to see where she was aiming before she hurled it down to the lower level with all of her strength.

 

The bottle shattered and sprayed fire across the floor. Scarlet reclaimed her cover, but she could hear the shrieks of some of the men who were being engulfed by flames. Hancock took advantage of the chaos and darted back out, this time running down the steps and straight into the madness.

 

Scarlet tried not to panic and leaped out after him, staying low and against the wall as she tried to scope out the more faraway targets. Seeing the top of a hat poking out from behind a subway car, she took aim and waited for him to expose himself enough for a clean shot. Then, sensing some movement out of the corner of her eye, she looked down to the tracks themselves where another Triggerman lie in wait. Once she had an opportunity to hit her first target, she squeezed the trigger, moving seamlessly to the next without missing a beat.

 

Hancock ignored the men who were on fire or had been injured by the frag grenade and ran recklessly from enemy to enemy, pumping bullets into their chests before they could even point their guns in his direction.

 

As Hancock worked his way further in, Scarlet trailed behind him, using the enhanced sights of her pistol to deadly effect. She surprised herself with her own accuracy, and the power amplification seemed to be working as well; all of her shots, no matter where they landed, were damaging enough to incapacitate, if not kill her opponents.

 

They traversed along the subway tracks, down the tunnel until they hit another station. The tracks came to an abrupt end. Off to the side stood a row of orange and white construction barriers, and behind them were a couple pieces of bright yellow excavation equipment. There were only a few more Triggermen left in their way, and Hancock mowed them down with ease before Scarlet had the opportunity to aim her pistol.

 

The final expulsion from Hancock's shotgun echoed against the tunnel walls, and all that they could hear was the distant groans and cries of the wounded men they had left behind.

 

Scarlet slid past the construction barriers and ran to rejoin John. He was standing still and looking up at the wall. Scarlet followed his gaze and her mouth went agape. Buried in this old subway station was the gargantuan steel door of vault 114.

 

“Would ya look at that...” mused Hancock.

 

Ellie had told them that Skinny Malone's hideout was in a vault, but the magnitude of the structure was overwhelming. Hancock looked around, puzzling over how they would manage to get it open.

 

Scarlet recognized the vault control panel at the top of a construction ramp. “I can open it with my Pip-Boy,” she exclaimed, racing up to it. She stood before the array of ports and buttons for a few seconds, trying to remember how to use it. She had done this once already when she left vault 111, and quickly identified the port that would connect to her Pip-Boy.

 

She hooked the device on her wrist to the panel, then slammed her fist against the large red button on the end.

 

A hiss of air and steam escaped as the gear-shaped seal popped outward and rolled to the side. An alarm blared and warning lights flashed as the inner door was pried off, and the bright fluorescent lights of the vault flooded the interior.

 

Hancock walked up the ramp, pushing his way in front of Scarlet. “Stay quiet,” he whispered, then dropped down low as he snuck his way inside. She stayed a safe distance behind him as she followed, staying as close to the ground as she could.

 

Two Triggermen were poised and ready for them at the entrance. One had a machine gun, and the other wielded a blue baseball bat and careened towards Hancock as soon as he spotted him. Scarlet focused on the gun-toting man in the background, lining up a shot to the head before he could start firing off his weapon.

 

She was confident that Hancock would have things under control, but for whatever reason, he didn't raise the barrel of his shotgun in time to avoid taking a blow from the Triggerman's baseball bat to the kneecap.

 

“John!” she screamed.

 

He crumpled to the floor, hissing in pain. The Triggerman raised the baseball bat high above his head in preparation to strike the ghoul again. But he didn't notice that Scarlet had been aiming at him, and she fired a hot red beam of energy into the center of his chest. The wound sizzled at the point of entry and the Triggerman dropped his bat, falling over on his side and covering the wound with his hands.

 

Scarlet rushed to Hancock's side, skidding to a halt next to him and stooping over to examine his injury.

 

“Let me see,” she said.

 

Hancock leaned up against a crate so she could see the limb. Through his clothing it was difficult to assess the damage, but based on the way he winced as she placed her hand on it, it had probably shattered from the impact.

 

Scarlet said nothing and went straight to work prepping a stimpack. “We'll have to make do with this until the doctor can look at it,” she said, sticking the needle through his pants and into his flesh.

 

Hancock cringed at the pressure of the needle, but the medicine went to work quickly, and in less than a minute he had regained movement.

 

“Do you think you'll be able to keep going?” she asked. She hoped he wasn't hurt so badly that they would have to turn back. They had made it this far, and they had to be getting close.

 

“I might be kinda slow, but I'll make it,” he said, gritting his teeth and pushing himself to stand.

 

Scarlet's brows knitted with concern, but she gave an affirmative nod. “If this is like every other vault, there should be a security office somewhere near the entrance. Maybe I'll be able to access a terminal, figure out where they're keeping Nick.”

 

Hancock limped after her as she paced around the entryway. Spying a row of observation windows, she ran off to find a way inside.

 

Scarlet was sitting down at a terminal when he caught up to her. She had already hacked into it, and was scrolling through the information at her disposal. The green light of the screen reflected off her glasses as her eyes danced over the text.

 

“This is pretty interesting...” she began, keeping her eyes glued to the screen. “Apparently this vault was set up to house some kind of social experiment.”

 

“Social experiment?”

 

“I'm reading the overseer's instructions, and it's talking about moving members of the upper class down here and make them live like poor people. Then they document what happens.”

 

“Hmph,” he snorted. “You think we can get the 'elite' residents of Diamond City to come for a visit? Might do 'em some good.”

 

“It's insane...” Scarlet said, shaking her head. “All these vaults, they were all designed for some kind of experiment, and without the knowledge or consent of the people who lived there.”

 

“Sounds pretty fucked up,” he agreed.

 

“I mean I sure as hell didn't know I was gonna be frozen when I went in there.” She rested her chin in her hand, tapping her fingers along her cheek thoughtfully. “I wonder what the point of it all was.”

 

“Well, you might never find out.” He let out a grunt as he leaned against the wall. “I'll never understand those pre-war egg-heads. No offense,” he added quickly.

 

“It's okay,” she said with a smile.

 

“I mean, the Institute, Vault-Tech, they're always fuckin' with people. Folks have a hard enough time getting' by without havin' to worry about that kind of shit.”

 

There was a short silence as Scarlet continued poring through the terminal. She appeared to be deep in thought as she combed it over, looking for something useful.

 

“Okay,” she announced, sitting up in her chair. “I've got Nick's location. He's at the top level of the atrium. Should be pretty easy to get to, so long as the path is clear.”

 

“I wouldn't count on it,” Hancock said glumly.

 

“Hey!” Scarlet eyed him, sporting a wicked-looking grin on her face. “I found the turret controls.” She looked positively gleeful, and bounced a little in her seat before making a few keystrokes.

 

“What did ya have in mind?”

 

“Let's see here...” she mumbled, squinting at the small print. “It looks like they've got a normal setup right now. Nothing fancy. But, I can reset their targeting parameters.”

 

“Reset what now?”

 

“I can wipe all their targeting data clean, meaning they won't be able to tell who's an enemy and who isn't.” Scarlet winked at Hancock, arching a devilish eyebrow. “They'll start shooting at anything that moves, including the Triggermen.”

 

Hancock chortled and clucked his tongue. “Sounds like a plan, Sunshine.”

 

“And us, too,” she added. “So maybe we should let it run for a while, let these bastards get good and shot up. Then, I'll deactivate them.”

 

“I never knew you were so bloodthirsty,” he grinned. He enjoyed seeing her while she was in her element. She was confident when she got behind a terminal, and she was constantly surprising him with the things she could do.

 

“I'm trying to find my son,” she said emphatically. “Do you know what happens when you get between a mama bear and her cub?”

 

“I'm guessin' it doesn't end well.”

 

“Alright,” she said, hitting a few more keys before sitting back in her chair. “I reset the turrets. Things should get pretty messy.”

 

The two of them waited patiently, straining to hear the activity in the vault. Scarlet got a bizarre but satisfying rush as she listened to the distant whines and pops of firing turrets, followed by the return fire of the Triggermen's machine guns. She was glad at least some of the dirty business of killing could be taken care of for her, without having to engage in combat directly.

 

While they waited, Scarlet stood up from the terminal and stretched her back. She removed her cowboy hat and set it on the desk, running a hand through her hair.

 

He grinned while he watched her. _God damn, she's sexy_. Even with her body concealed beneath her armor, she was a vision. His eyes roamed over her figure, thinking about all the parts of her he'd like to touch if he could. _Those tits..._ he remarked to himself, honing in on her chest. It was a miracle she could find a piece of armor that could cover them.

 

Scarlet blushed, noticing Hancock's lewd stare. “What are you thinking about?” she asked him playfully.

 

“Just wondering how long we gotta wait here before most of these assholes are dead.”

 

Her eyes widened at his implication. _Here? Now?_ But the rush of heat between her thighs was telling. The excitement of being in the middle of a war-zone, the thrill of being discovered by the enemy while in the throes of lovemaking... Against her better judgment, she gave him a knowing smile. _It's not like we have anything better to do._

 

“I don't know, fifteen, twenty minutes?” She strolled over to John, who was leaning against the wall with his injured leg tucked behind him. His arms were folded across his chest, and he was motionless as she approached save the movement of his eyes.

 

Gazing at him seductively, she grabbed onto the lapel of his coat and pulled herself up, gracing him with a sweet, soft little kiss on his smiling mouth.

 

“You think we got enough time?” he asked suggestively.

 

“I think so.” Her face was less than an inch from his, and the heat of her breath washed over his face as she spoke. “But you're hurt...” She took a step back and tried to frown, but couldn't suppress her mischievous smirk. “Maybe you should sit down.”

 

Grabbing at his coat, Scarlet tugged him away from the wall and began backing up to the desk chair in front of the terminal. Hancock stumbled a little on his injured knee, but managed to clamber his way over and plop down. He took off his hat as well, setting it next to hers, and followed her movements as she sashayed in front of him.

 

She bent forward, placing her hands on the armrests, and kissed him again. This time, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, running it back and forth over his lips and teeth.

 

Hancock was hard almost immediately. The unorthodox setting along with her take-charge attitude was driving him crazy with desire. He let out a barely audible moan as his cock pulsed and filled with blood, and Scarlet glanced down at his growing erection. “You got turned on pretty quick,” she snickered, pushing herself back upright.

 

“You seem to have that effect on me,” he chided. He resisted the urge to grab her and pull her into the chair, anxious to see what she was going to do. He sat back calmly and gripped the armrest, simmering with anticipation.

 

Scarlet's face was plastered with a permanent smile as she stood in front of him, her feet planted between his. She undid the button of her pants and slid down the zipper. Then, wiggling her hips, she pushed the top of her pants and underwear down until they collected just below the curve of her ass, revealing her naked mound to his ravenous eyes.

 

“I'm pretty turned on, too,” she said. She took hold of his right hand and pulled it closer. Then she curled his fingers inward, leaving just the index finger sticking out, and slid the digit in between her thighs.

 

She was soaking wet. Her nectar was already spreading down her thighs, allowing his finger to slip along her skin with ease. She shuddered with pleasure as he pressed up against her slit, nestling his finger in between her folds.

 

Scarlet watched him intently as he slid his finger in and out, grazing against her clit with every pass. At one point he paused to lick off the juices he had collected, then went back to teasing her.

 

She noticed his cock struggling to escape from his pants, and she longed to free it, let it out of its prison and reveal it in its full glory. Scarlet took his hand and placed it back on the armrest. Then, her eyes sparkling impishly, she squatted down until she was perched between his thighs. She undid the button of his pants and pulled down the zipper, spreading the fabric so that his erection had plenty of room to burst from its confines and stand rigidly upward.

 

Hancock hissed as his member hit the chilly air. She inspected it for a moment, barely caressing the base of his shaft with her fingertips. But it was enough to make him throb, and a bead of slick, clear fluid formed at the tip of his swollen head.

 

Scarlet dabbed it with her fingertip, then spread it around, coating the purple head until it glistened. “Mmm...” she hummed. “Looks pretty tasty.” She kept her eyes pointed up and locked with his as she bent her head down. Holding him steady at the base, she flicked the edge of her tongue over his opening, sampling a dab of his fluids.

 

Hancock clutched the armrests and denied himself the satisfaction of pulling her lips over his cock. Her teasing was sweetly torturous, and he loved the way she was drawing it out. He caught his bottom lip in his teeth and tried to hold on as she rubbed the end of his cock on the flat of her tongue.

 

Still looking up at him, she closed her lips into a tight circle. Then, pressing his head against her lips, she pushed forward, engulfing the length of him into her mouth.

 

Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked him in. He tried not to move his hips, letting her control the movement of her lips running over his shaft. Leaning back, she withdrew him completely, leaving his erection pulsing and his balls aching. She smiled and ran her finger over the tip again. She was toying with him, and the look on her face was deliciously evil. She knew what she was doing to him, and she enjoyed exploring the power she had over his body's responses.

 

She took him all the way into her throat again, gagging as the head of his cock brushed against her uvula. With her short hair, he could see the fullness of her face as she sucked him. _God, she looks good with my cock in her mouth_.

 

Scarlet only sucked him for a minute, but long enough to make sure that his cock was primed and ready for her to ride it. She stood up and turned around, pulling her pants down just a little farther so that he could see the whole of her ass. His hands threatened to reach out for her, but he held his breath and forced himself to remain still as she pulled her pussy lips apart and poised herself over him, ready to impale herself with his thick, moistened cock.

 

The head of his cock pressed against her opening, stretching her walls as it slipped inside. “Nngh..” she moaned, feeling her lips parting around his head. But she only went down far enough to take the end of him before rolling forward, leaving him starving for the warmth of her pussy.

 

Fortunately, she didn't leave him waiting long. She rocked her hips down over his shaft again, this time letting him penetrate her halfway before leaving him exposed.

 

He was about to explode from pure frustration. The torment was becoming agonizing, and an angry rumble rattled deep in his chest. Scarlet looked back at him with a knowing smile. “You wanna go all the way in?” she taunted, shaking her ass in front of his face.

 

“You're god damn right I do,” he growled.

 

“Say 'please',” she mocked, reaching behind her to smack herself on the ass.

 

“Please,” he said breathlessly. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head, and he was drowning in a pool of his own lust.

 

“Please, what?”

 

“Fuck Scarlet, please, you're makin' me go insane.” He had almost had enough, and was seconds away from just grabbing her by the hips and forcing his way in.

 

“Okay,” she giggled. She lined his tip up with her opening once more and then, finally, sat down until her ass was against his stomach and she had taken every inch of him into her pussy.

 

Hancock moaned uncontrollably and almost came as she pushed down, grinding her hips into his and milking his cock with her twitching walls. She whimpered and mewled and made all kinds of amazing sounds as she worked him inside of her, positioning his cock so that it pressed against her sweet spot.

 

She lifted herself from his lap before slamming back down again, the collision of skin creating a satisfying smack in the air. Scarlet let out a moan deep in her throat when she felt his head against her cervix, and she circled her hips, enjoying the way he felt moving around that far within her core.

 

Up her ass went again, then down, riding his cock so hard he thought she might rip it off. Each time she landed on him she cried out, his invasion almost painful as it stretched her inner walls. But her pace was quickening, and her abdominal muscles tightening, and she was bearing down on him voraciously as she shrieked and chanted his name.

 

Her unabashed cries echoed against the walls of the vault as she came. The pulsing of her walls set him off and he roared at his own release deep within her womb. He involuntarily held onto one of her hips as he emptied himself within her, filling her cunt until it gushed out of her opening, coating his balls in his own creamy release.

 

Scarlet's pace began to slow, and Hancock groaned with satisfaction as the last of his cum squirted from his cock and into her warmth. The contractions of her core abated gradually, and when she had finally ridden her climax to the last wave, she pulled herself off of him, revealing his cum-coated member as the blood began to drain from it.

 

Scarlet turned around and knelt between his legs once more, this time taking one of his balls in her mouth and sucking him clean. She went on to the other, then swallowed his cock, getting every last drop of him that she could.

 

She rubbed her hands along his thighs, smiling demurely at him beneath heavy lids. He was still breathing hard when he took her by the chin and pulled her face up to his, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and sliding it against hers.

 

After a moment or two, she pried her lips away and stood up, looking down at him as she pulled up her pants. “Did you like that?” she asked him shyly.

 

“I think you gotta find a stronger word than 'like,'” he purred. He stuffed his shrinking cock back into his pants and zipped them up. Then, hoisting himself up by the armrests, he stood on shaking legs and grabbed his hat from the desk.

 

“You gonna be able to walk?” she grinned.

 

“Are you?” he teased.

 

“I'll make it,” she assured him, flipping her cowboy hat onto her head. “I'm not hearing anymore gunfire. Maybe I should turn off the turrets now.”

 

“Maybe,” he said with a smirk. “I think we came here to find my friend Nicky, right?”

 

“That's right,” she said, bending over the terminal and deactivating the turret system. “Now, let's go rescue the detective.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Well I'll be damned, if it ain't the one and only John Hancock of Goodneighbor.”

 

“Nicky!” Hancock pulled the detective into a bear hug, patting him hard on the back before releasing him. “How you holdin' up, you useless bundle of circuits?”

 

“Not bad for someone who's been rotting in an office for three weeks.” He lit a cigarette, drawing against the filter with his silvery lips. Scarlet hadn't expected Detective Valentine to be a synth. Not that it really mattered to her, but she found it odd, considering the hatred most Commonwealth residents had for the Institute constructs. “How'd you find me, anyway?”

 

“Your secretary, Ellie. She was worried about ya and sent out a rescue party.”

 

“She did, huh? Gotta think about givin' her a raise.”

 

He walked, talked, and dressed like a caricature, wearing a fedora and trench coat, and speaking in a thick Boston accent. His eyes were bright yellow and glowed like they were made of stardust. His gray metallic skin was absent in places, revealing the wires and circuitry that lurked beneath.

 

“So what makes a degenerate like you wanna risk life and limb to save an old private eye?” the synth jibed. “Don't tell me you did it outta the goodness of your heart.”

 

“You're closer to the truth than ya might think,” said Hancock with a smile. “This woman here's been lookin' for ya. Needs your help with a pretty important case.”

 

Hancock stepped aside and gestured to Scarlet, who waved timidly at the detective.

 

Nick's eyes went wide when he saw her. He didn't notice her standing behind the ghoul when they first walked in the overseer's office.

 

How could he not notice her?

 

Her hair. Her eyes. The shape of her face. The freckles on her nose. Even the curve of her hips.

 

It was her. He didn't know how it was possible, but here she was, standing right in front of him. Unless he was looking at a ghost.

 

“Jenny?”

 

Scarlet cocked her head. _He thinks I'm someone else?_ She didn't know much about synths or how they were programmed. Was he having trouble with his facial recognition software?

 

“My name is... Scarlet Wolf,” she said cautiously.

 

Nick suddenly snapped out of whatever crazy world he was just lost in. _Of course it's not her. Jenny's dead. She died over 200 years ago._ He looked over her features again, as if to make sure he had reached the correct conclusion. _Definitely not her. Jenny never wore glasses._

 

“Sorry about that,” said Nick lightly. “This mechanical body's getting' old. Sometimes I get my wires crossed.”

 

Hancock's black eyes narrowed with suspicion. He didn't know what to make of Nick's little 'slip,' but something about it didn't sit right with him. Acting on instinct, he stood beside her and placed a possessive arm around her waist.

 

“I really need your help,” Scarlet implored, her voice shaking slightly with her overwhelming helplessness. “My son's been kidnapped, and I don't know anyone else to turn to.”

 

Nick stroked his chin and took a drag of his cigarette. “Missing person, huh?” He exhaled a stream of smoke and then dropped it at his feet, snuffing it under his shoe. “Well you came to the right synth, if not the right place. You should come see me at my office in Diamond City. We can discuss the details of your case there.”

 

Hancock shifted his weight and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, I know you got a setup there and everything, but Diamond City ain't exactly 'ghoul-friendly.'”

 

“Can she come in alone?” Nick asked.

 

Hancock wasn't sure, but he thought there was a hint of provocation in the synth's voice. He didn't care for the way he was looking at Scarlet, and the thought of her sitting in a room alone with him was irksome to say the least. He tried not to scowl at the detective, and racked his brain for a civil way to tell him to fuck off.

 

But Scarlet answered Nick before he had a chance to respond. “John and I can't be separated,” she said matter-of-factly. She felt for the piece of the flag Hancock had given her to wear around her wrist. Anytime she felt like something threatened to tear them apart, she rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger and took comfort in the promise Hancock made to her. Even though he told her that he'd come for her if they were separated, she didn't want to leave his side if she didn't have to. It felt like too great of a risk, even if she was only going to the detective's office.

 

Nick arched one of his synthetic brows at the couple. He wasn't sure what this was all about, but he knew better than to ask. “Well it'd be nice to sit down and talk, maybe take some notes. It's best to get all the details I can, gives me the best chance of findin' him.”

 

“How about you meet us back at Goodneighbor?” asked Hancock, though it came across more as an ultimatum. “You can meet up with Irma at the Memory Den while you're there.” He hoped Nick would be piqued by the suggestion. If he remembered right, Irma and Nick had something going on a few years back. _Might give the synth somethin' better to do than stare at my girl._

 

Nick nodded amenably. “That's not a bad idea. Been a while since I paid her a visit.”

 

“You can use the State House if you need somewhere to talk,” Hancock added. “Wolfie's stayin' there with me.”

 

Nick received the ghoul's message loud and clear. John had already laid claim to this girl, and he was probably bothered by the way the synth kept ogling her. But he couldn't help himself. She looked so much like Jenny, it was hard not to stare.

 

“Sounds good,” he agreed. “But before we head to Goodneighbor, I gotta do one thing.”

 

“What's that?” Hancock asked.

 

“Get the hell out of this vault.”


	9. Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot w/ tweaked game dialogue, followed by a lot of angst

“All right. Let's get down to business. Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

 

Scarlet sat on the couch across from the detective in the parlor of the Old State House. Fahrenheit, along with any other personnel, had been cleared out, save Hancock, who stood behind her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

“You want somethin' to drink?” he asked her softly.

 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Maybe a scotch.”

 

“You got it,” he said, walking over to his liquor cabinet.

 

Scarlet was glad to have him near while she talked to Nick. She wasn't looking forward to going over her memories from her time in the vault, and she wanted him around if things got difficult. He could always find a way to calm her down. A glass of scotch wouldn't hurt, either.

 

Hancock set a generous glass of brown liquor on the coffee table in front of her. She immediately took a swig, then reached for her nearby pack of cigarettes.

 

Nick sparked one up too, following her. She thought it odd that a synthetic human smoked cigarettes. What possible pleasure could he derive from it? She wanted to ask him about it. She wanted to ask him about a lot of things. Robotics was her forte, and she was still passionate about the subject. His very existence was a thing of fascination.

 

But she didn't know him too well. Hancock did, but he didn't seem to like the synth for some reason. Their initial greeting in vault 114 looked like a reunion between old pals, but something had made things frosty between them very quickly. Maybe it was Valentine's insistence on going to Diamond City.

 

At any rate, she had to open up to him about her own life. About Nate, about Shaun. About the people who killed her husband and kidnapped her son.

 

A shiver ran its way down her back. She swallowed another mouthful of scotch and sucked her cigarette. She was anxious to get down to business and get this over with.

 

Nick had a pencil and a pad of paper in front of him. He took the writing instrument in his hand and put the tip against the paper, preparing to take notes on what she said. “When you're trying to find someone who's gone missing, the devil is in the details.” He ashed his cigarette and leveled with her eyes briefly before looking back down at the paper. “Tell me everything you can,” he said, scribbling something. “No matter how... painful it might be.”

 

Scarlet took a deep breath, trying to find a place to start. She summoned what courage she had and soldiered through, trying not to think too hard about what she was saying.

 

“When the bombs fell, we had reserved a space in Vault 111,” she began. “I thought it might be a good idea to put our family down for a spot, considering the threats the country was facing. But it wasn't just a normal fallout shelter. It was actually some kind of cryo facility. They said they were going to 'depressurize' us, but ended up freezing us instead.”

 

“You were on ice, huh?” said Nick, scrawling something on his notepad. “And you were in a vault. That's a lot of obstacles to get through just to kidnap one person.” He paused, putting the eraser to his lips. “Did you just say you were alive before the war?”

 

“Yeah. I entered stasis in October 2077.”

 

“Wow. So this is a whole new world for you, isn't it?”

 

Scarlet nodded, tapping her cigarette against the lip of the ashtray. “Mhmm.”

 

“Sorry for interrupting,” said Nick. “Go on.”

 

She swallowed thickly before continuing. “So, I wake up, and there's these two people messing with the cryo pod across from me. My husband Nate was in there, holding our baby, Shaun.”

 

Every time she said his name, it caught in her throat. She may not have cared much about her husband, but she loved that child more than anything else.

 

“It was a man and a woman. They woke Nate up out of stasis along with Shaun, and the woman grabbed my baby and tried to take him. Nate was just trying to save him, but the man shot him in the head, and they took Shaun.”

 

“Did they say anything that stuck out to you?” he offered, attempting to get something more useful. He was genuinely remorseful about asking, but he had a job to do.

 

“They didn't say much.” Scarlet snubbed her cigarette out and swallowed the rest of the scotch in her glass. “But I remember they called me 'the backup.'”

 

“Hmm...” Nick gazed thoughtfully at the notepad, tapping the end of the pencil on its edge. “Sounds like these people were a couple of professionals. They were killers, but they waited until something went wrong to resort to violence.”

 

Scarlet shook her head and removed her glasses, then buried her face in her hands. “I don't get it. Why would someone wanna take my baby?”

 

Nick was temporarily dumbfounded by the brief glimpse of her face. Without her glasses, she really was the spitting image...

 

“Uh, that's a good question,” he stammered. “Why your family in particular, and why an infant? Someone would be taking on all of his care, and a baby needs a lot of it.”

 

Nick rolled the pencil between his hands. His cigarette lay abandoned and extinguished in the ashtray. “That confirms it. This was no ordinary kidnapping. Whoever took your kid had an agenda.”

 

“That doesn't really narrow it down, does it?” chimed in Hancock. He leaned his elbows against the couch Scarlet was sitting on, staring dubiously at the detective. “Raiders, Super Mutants, Gunners, they all take people.”

 

“Then there's also the Institute,” Nick added.

 

“Yeah right,” Scarlet scoffed, putting her glasses back on. “I've heard a lot of people talking about this 'Institute,' but nobody can give me any proof that they actually exist.”

 

“Are your own eyes proof enough?” the synth said sharply.

 

“The Institute made you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Sure did. I was one of their prototypes.” He stated securely. “There's the older ones that are dumb as rocks and all metal, then there's the newer ones that are almost human. I'm somewhere in-between.” Scarlet narrowed her eyes at him, wary of the legitimacy of his claim. “They threw me in the trash years ago. I woke up in a pile full of discarded synths, with the memories of a pre-war cop.”

 

Scarlet's mind hummed with a dozen questions about his origin, but she tried to stick to the topic at hand. If Nick was really a creation of the Institute, he had to know something about them. “Where can I find the Institute?” she demanded.

 

Nick chuckled and lit up another smoke. “Nobody knows. Not me or anyone else.”

 

Scarlet pressed her lips together and glowered at him. “If you're really from the Institute, you'd know where they are.”

 

“Think about it. People smart enough to build something like me are smart enough to cover their tracks. And arrogant enough to throw their unwanted trash into the Commonwealth to fend for itself.”

 

“Aren't there any other synths out there?” she probed. “One of them's got to know something.”

 

“It's not just me,” he said flatly. “Any synth that gets trashed, left behind, or escapes the institute has the same problem. There must be some kind of security setting that strips or blocks out those memories. Probably some kind of failsafe.”

 

Scarlet sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “So what's the point,” she groaned. “If nobody knows where they are, or how to get there, then why are you even bothering telling me all this?” She gripped the edge of the couch with her hands in an effort to keep her temper under control. She was tired of hearing about the Institute, tired of hearing over and over that they were some unknowable, god-like entity. It frustrated her to no end, and her irritation was magnified a thousand times by the notion that they may have kidnapped her son.

 

She could feel the pressure of Hancock's palm on her shoulder. His touch immediately calmed her, and her muscles slowly relaxed as the warmth of his hand ran through her. She re-centered herself, bringing the conversation back to what really mattered. “Either way, I need to find Shaun.”

 

“You're right,” Nick conceded. He looked like he regretted bringing all of it up. “This speculation is getting us off track. Let's focus on what you saw.” He raised his pencil, getting ready to take more notes. “What did these kidnappers look like?”

 

Scarlet exhaled sharply through her nose. “Well, the woman was wearing a hazard suit. I couldn't see her face. The man had some sort of metal brace on his arm. He was bald, and had a huge scar across his left eye.” She looked down at her feet. “He came right up to me. He's the one who told me I was 'the backup.' And his voice...” Her lips turned down in disgust as she recalled him. “I'll never forget that voice. Low and rough. Like sandpaper across your face.”

 

“Wait...” Nick's brows went up, and he had a sparkle of curiosity in his yellow eyes. “You didn't hear the name 'Kellogg' at all, did you?”

 

She shut eyelids tight against the rising surge of tears. This conversation had almost run its course, and she was fed up with it. They weren't getting anywhere with this line of questioning. She was only getting more and more upset, and even Hancock's hand on her back wasn't enough to keep her from breaking down.

 

“I don't know...” she said, an angry sob bursting from her throat. “I can't remember every little thing that happened.”

 

“It's alright, doll,” said Nick. He raised his palm up in a gesture of surrender. “I think I might have a lead, now.”

 

Scarlet sniffled and looked up at the detective. Her glasses had slid down to the tip of her nose, and her large blue eyes peeked over the frames. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. There's a guy in my case files that matches his description. Bald. Scar across his left eye. A history of violent mercenary work.”

 

“Do you think it could be him?” she asked hopefully. She was on the verge of total despair, and anything at all that gave her a shred of hope was worth holding onto.

 

“I'm not sure, but I have an idea of where to start looking.” Valentine stood up from the couch and shook out the tails of his trench coat. “I'll have to go to Diamond City, though. The man in question used to have a house there. If I can convince the mayor to give me the key, I can do a thorough search. Get some answers.”

 

Scarlet clasped her hands in front of her mouth, as if uttering a prayer of gratitude. “You think you can?” Her eyes were shiny with tears as she looked up at him, zeroing in on his bright yellow irises. He knew it wasn't her. He knew it in his head. But in his heart, he knew different. _I'll find him for you, Jenny. I promise,_ said a mysterious voice in his head. As hard as he tried to shake it, her memory loomed over him daily. He had failed her when she needed him most. But he wasn't going to fail this woman. _I won't let you down, Jenny._

 

“I can't make any promises,” said Nick, his conscious mind resuming control. “But I'm gonna start looking.”

 

“Thank you,” she whispered, touching her forehead to her interwoven hands. Hancock had come from behind her to sit at her side, and put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

 

“What do you need from us, Nicky?” he asked. Seeing Scarlet so destitute made his heart break. If there was anything he could do to speed things along, he was more than happy to do it.

 

“Nothing right now. That's what you hired me for. I'm the detective, remember?”

 

His sarcastic lilt made Hancock glare at the synth, but he tried to ignore his desire to snap back. “Well what do we owe ya, then?”

 

“Nothing,” he said, a touch of a smile on his lips. He picked up the notepad and tucked it into his coat, then began buttoning up the front. “You got me out of that vault. Consider it a debt payed.”

 

Hancock gave the detective a thankful nod. It was pretty generous of him, considering he probably had a lot of other cases that were paying jobs. “You headin' there now then?”

 

“I'll come back and visit Irma another day,” he said. “This is a little bit more important than rekindling an old flame.”

 

Scarlet's head was resting in the crook of Hancock's neck. She was done talking at this point. Hancock did his best to soothe her while he wrapped things up with Nick.

 

Now, he felt kind of bad for being suspicious of Valentine. He gave Scarlet a funny look when he first met her. Called her by a different name. But at least on the surface, he was attempting to behave honorably. Maybe his lapse _had_ just been a short circuit. He'd never done anything in their long and storied history to cross him, so why would should John assume he was doing it now?

 

“I appreciate your help,” Hancock said sincerely. Anything that would help his beloved Scarlet find her child was invited. And Nick was an experienced private eye. If he was going to put his trust in anyone to find Shaun, it would have to be him.

 

“I'll send word with a trade caravan when I have more information,” he said, adjusting his fedora.

 

“You need anything before you hit the road?”

 

“If you can spare some ammo that'd be swell. Otherwise, I'm all set.”

 

“I'll talk to KLEO before you leave, get you what you need.” He managed a smile at the synth, who looked down at the two of them sympathetically.

 

“Don't you worry now, Scar,” Nick said.

 

Scarlet turned her head, a tear falling down her face as she looked into the detective's eyes.

 

“If your son's out there, I'll track him down.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Scarlet lay back against the bed, Hancock pumping his hips in and out of her at a furious pace as he loomed over her naked body. His palms were flat against the mattress, resting on either side of her head. She wanted him to pin her down by her wrists, grab her around the neck, bite the other side of her neck and leave an even bigger mark.

 

But Hancock wasn't reading any of her cues. She arched her head back to expose every inch of her graceful neck, crossed her arms above her head in an invitation to immobilize her. Scarlet wasn't accustomed to being vocal about what she wanted in bed, but she was dying for him to take control of her. Her skin tingled at the thought of being powerless in his arms, of being subject to his will. She wanted him to use her, take whatever he wanted, tie her up, smack her bottom until it bruised, anything to bring that glorious feeling of surrender back.

 

But he hardly touched her. Apart from his cock darting in and out of her slick center, they had hardly made contact. She was too frustrated to enjoy herself. He grunted and groaned with the effort of his thrusts, but the whole exercise seemed woefully empty to her.

 

She took Hancock's hand in hers. Maybe he just needed a more obvious signal. She pulled it up to her neck and pressed his palm to her throat, smiling with encouragement as she let her arm fall back against the bed.

 

But he withdrew his hand from her neck, setting it back next to her head where it had originated. Her brows furrowed, baffled by his behavior. Hell-bent on getting what she wanted, she tried again, pulling his hand from the bed and guiding it to her neck.

 

He snatched it away before he even brushed the skin. He was refusing to play along, and it was making her angry.

 

_Maybe he's holding back on purpose..._

 

Perhaps he was playing a game with her, denying her desires until she succumbed to him. He had liked it when she begged him. The growl in his throat had sent shockwaves to her center. Her eyes widened wantonly as she gazed at his face, entreating him with her lustful stare.

 

“Please, John,” she whispered. “Put your hand around my neck.”

 

His only response was an obstinate grunt as he kept going, fucking her fast and hard, but with nothing behind it.

 

“Please, John,” she said a little louder.

 

“What is it, Sunshine?” he asked, panting against her mouth, his eyes shut, attempting to block out the pleading expression on her face.

 

“I want you to grab my neck. Please, I love the way it feels.”

 

Hancock seemed to be purposefully ignoring her. His hands stayed where they were, and he went on assaulting her pussy, which was drying out with the increasing friction and her decreasing arousal.

 

“Pin me down,” she beseeched him. “Please, pin me to the bed.”

 

“Not now,” he whispered, softly but with a stubborn finality.

 

Scarlet was dumbfounded and insulted by his denial. He was still avoiding her eyes, fucking her without regard for what she wanted. Her face hardened with annoyance and she attempted to capture his attention.

 

“Why won't you?” she demanded.

 

She was almost in pain now as his cock scraped against her dry inner walls. This wasn't fun. She was getting no enjoyment from the experience, and she was becoming irate from his dismissal.

 

He could feel the resistance of her pussy against his member. His organ began to shrink and he growled in frustration, pulling out of her and rolling out of bed.

 

Scarlet flipped to her side and glared at him as he walked to his bureau, removing a brown bottle of liquor. She watched indignantly as he took several gulps from the bottle, replacing the cap with a smack of his lips.

 

Hancock wouldn't look at her. He was ashamed of himself. He was embarrassed that he was too scared to give her what she wanted, to go where they had been before. He turned his back to Scarlet and leaned against the bureau.

 

“What's wrong with you, John?” she asked him. There was a quiver of anger in her voice as she doggedly pressed the issue.

 

“Nothin',” he snapped, looking at her momentarily before presenting his back to her again.

 

Scarlet stomped out of bed, her bare feet thudding against the floor. “Tell me, what the fuck is going on?” She snagged him by the shoulder and jerked at it, attempting to bring him around.

 

Reticently, Hancock turned and leveled with her eyes. He could almost see the steam shooting out of her ears. Her beet-red face was scrunched in consternation, and she breathed in and out through her nostrils heavily, her mouth being occupied with clenching her jaw.

 

“I can't do that to you, anymore.” he told her. His onyx eyes were fiery, piercing hers in the soft lamplight.

 

“Why not?” she persisted. Her hands were in tight fists against her body.

 

“I can't hurt you, Sunshine, not after what happened.” He wanted it to come out forcefully. He wasn't going to do it, and that was that. But it was laced with an undertone of regret. Hancock was responsible for awakening these desires; she wouldn't have known she liked it if he hadn't done it in the first place. And now, when she was begging him for it, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

 

Scarlet felt a little sorry for him then. Her face melted with sympathy, and she reached out to grab his hand. After all, she had freaked out on him that morning in Diamond City. He was concerned about her, and she was almost touched by his hesitation. “It's okay,” she said softly. “You're not really hurting me. I like it.”

 

She tried to capture him with her seductive smile, but he looked away before she could coerce him. “I can't do it,” he mumbled.

 

“John,” she soothed. She reached her free hand to his cheek and held it there. “I'm sorry about what I did the other morning.”

 

“Don't you dare.” He latched his hands around her shoulders, nearly shaking her where she stood. Her mouth went agape at the darkness in his voice. “Don't you dare be sorry.”

 

Scarlet's nose crinkled, stung by her rising tears. Why did he insist on feeling so guilty? It tore at her insides, the way he beat himself up over what happened. She regretted ever telling him the whole story about what happened at Haymarket.

 

“The reason I got upset was because I was confused,” she tried to explain. Maybe she could assuage his guilt if he understood it better. “It's because I felt... _his_ hands on me. _Him_ inside me. But when you touch me, it's completely different.” She hung her head, trying to convey to him what was going on in her mind in a way he could understand. “I just want to feel _you_. I wish I could take everything he did to me and replace it with you, so I'd never have to think about him gain.”

 

Hancock's breath hitched as he loosened his grip from her shoulders. As he watched a silent tear roll down her cheek, the backs of his eyes pricked with his own sorrow. He was powerless to change what had happened. He felt weak, impotent, incapable of protecting her. How could he ever forgive himself, knowing he'd allowed it to take place?

 

“I can't do it...” he sighed, his voice wavering.

 

Scarlet's apologetic frown hardened into a snarl of resentment. “You know, Hancock,” she hissed through her teeth, “ _I'm_ the one who got raped.”

 

He took a step back, blindsided by her voice, by her use of his last name.

 

“ _I'm_ trying to move on with my life,” she continued. “ _You're_ the one who's holding me back.” Scarlet pointed a shaking finger in his face, a flood of tears spilling over her reddened eyelids. “If _I_ can get over it, then so can you.”

 

Her chin was trembling as she spoke. She gasped in a breath, breaking up the sob that was bubbling in her throat. She grunted in frustration and turned her back to him, then began gathering the loose articles of clothing that were strewn about his room.

 

“Figure your shit out,” she snapped, gathering her clothes in her arms. “And don't come back until you do.”

 

With a pile of garments in her naked arms, she stormed out of Hancock's bedroom door, slamming it behind her.


	10. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short, but I love ending it where it is.

Scarlet rested her head in her hand and ran her finger absently around the rim of a half-empty glass. Magnolia's voice was achingly sad, singing song after song of loneliness and heartbreak. _Fitting_.

 

The singer was wrapping up for the evening and the Rail's crowd was beginning to disperse. But she dreaded going back to the hotel. Last night had been bad enough. She cried herself to sleep, hugging her pillow for comfort, wishing that John was there next to her. She'd gotten used to sleeping next to him every night. The absence of his warmth made what little rest she was able to get fitful and plagued with interruptions.

 

She had spent almost the entire day on the warehouse rooftop with her laser pistol, unleashing her anger on the exhaust vents across the street until the metal sizzled in the sun. And now, her ire had melted into sorrow and self-pity. She was almost too depressed to drink. She went over and over in her mind what she had said to John, wondering if she had been too cruel. His hesitation came from a place of concern, and he only held back from giving her what she wanted because he loved her so much.

 

But she was too stubborn to apologize, and was still hurting from his denial. If their relationship was going to survive, he'd have to at least try to forgive himself for what happened to her. It certainly wasn't his fault. And while she understood his guilt, it was a barrier he had to break before they could reach a state of normalcy.

 

Scarlet was lost in the music, and started at the sight of the mayor coming up to the bar next to her. He was a respectful distance away, and avoided looking in her direction as he ordered a drink from Charlie.

 

She swiveled her chair to face the stage and sipped her whiskey. She wasn't going to be the first one to say something.

 

In her periphery, she noticed him standing beside her, a drink in his hand. His nearness made her heart beat quicker, but she didn't acknowledge him. She stubbornly kept her eyes fixed on the stage and waited for him to speak.

 

“You doin' okay?” He was looking at the stage, too, calmly swallowing his drink.

 

“I'm fine,” she said tersely. She downed the rest of her whiskey in one gulp and swiveled back to the bar, lighting a cigarette. When Charlie came up to refill her she put a hand over her glass.

 

Hancock leaned against the counter next to her, the sleeve of his coat brushing against her elbow. The contact gave her a wave of goosebumps, against her own volition.

 

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” He was looking in her direction, thought not quite at her.

 

“I guess so.” Scarlet smashed the glowing end of her barely-used cigarette in the ashtray and stood up. She crossed her arms and stared at him impatiently.

 

Avoiding her probing eyes, he finished his liquor and began making his way toward the exit, Scarlet stomping along behind him.

 

She almost objected when he led her back to the State House, thinking he was going to try and lure her back into his bed. But there weren't exactly a lot of places to have a private conversation in Goodneighbor, and she grudgingly followed him up the stairs.

 

Instead of going into the parlor, he headed out to the balcony, removing a cigarette from his coat as he stepped into the crisp night air. He lit it and held it out to her as she came out. She wordlessly took it and settled several feet away, leaning her back against the railing.

 

Hancock lit another smoke and bent over, resting his forearms against the railing and watching the streets below them as he spoke to her. “I love you, you know that?”

 

“I know,” she said curtly, taking a drag. Her head was turned to the side, and her eyes roamed aimlessly over the town.

 

“This is all uncharted territory for me,” he explained. “I know I've been with a lot of women. But I ain't used to there bein'... feelings... involved.” He hung his head, leaning his weight on his arms, and let out a long sigh. “It wasn't something I ever planned on. Not something I wanted. At least, I thought I didn't.”

 

Scarlet looked at him, feeling a pulse of regret in her breast. _I should be more patient with him..._

 

“I've always been alone. I liked it that way. Things were easier, less complicated.” He took a deep draught of smoke into his lungs, blowing it out into cloudless night. “I only had myself to worry about. Never been responsible for anyone. Never had something I wanted to protect.”

 

His raised his head, capturing her with his charcoal eyes, looking almost helpless. Scarlet swallowed hard over the lump that was forming in her throat. She hated seeing him so forlorn.

 

“You can't control everything that happens to me,” she countered. Although she was touched by his desire to shield her from the world, realistically, he couldn't fend off every difficulty she might encounter. In many cases, he shouldn't. And he must have known that on some level, otherwise he wouldn't have pushed her into the bar fight at the Dugout Inn, or taken her to Trinity Tower, or even let her leave Goodneighbor.

 

“I know that.” He pushed himself up from the balcony railing and a threw his cigarette out into the street. Then he began to approach her, taking slow, measured steps while keeping his eyes fixed on hers. “It's just hard for me to accept.”

 

As he inched closer, she looked away, biting her lip with uncertainty.

 

But he extended his arm and put his fingertips against her jaw, pulling her attention back to him and re-capturing her gaze. “But I know I gotta. And I'm gonna figure out how.” His brows straightened in resolution. His deep voice was commanding, steady, reassuring. “I _will_ figure it out. I promise.”

 

All of Scarlet's resentment and frustration eroded into nothingness in the breath of his words, and she jumped into his arms, grasping him fiercely around the neck as she pressed her body to his. “I know you will, John.”

 

Hancock hooked a supportive arm around her waist and wrapped his hand around the back of her head, burying his fingertips in the softness of her hair. She nuzzled into his shoulder, and he rested the side of his face against her head, inhaling her scent and exhaling it with exquisite relief. He had also strongly felt her absence, even though it had only been one night.

 

They held each other for a minute, mutually alleviated by the sense of wholeness they experienced by being together. For her part, Scarlet could have stayed like that for the rest of the night. But eventually, Hancock broke the silence, the heat of his breath tingling against her ear.

 

“I have a question for you, Sunshine.”

 

He placed his hands on her shoulders, prompting her to lift her face so that she could look at him. She was practically glowing in the moonlight, and beamed at him so brightly his heart skipped a beat. “What's that?”

 

The smile he was donning flattened out, and his abyssal stare became intense and serious. “Do you trust me?”

 

Scarlet opened her mouth to respond, but Hancock put two fingers against her lips to silence her. “Now wait a second,” he said. “I want you to think about it. I mean _really_ think about it.”

 

Scarlet's eyes widened underneath her knitting brows. _Yes, of course I trust you_ , she had wanted to say. The answer was obvious. At least, she thought it was. But he was asking her to pause and consider her response, and she acquiesced with some perplexity, wondering where he was going with all of this.

 

As she compliantly closed her mouth, Hancock put his hand in his pocket, keeping the other one locked on her shoulder. He continued boring into her with his onyx orbs, as if to pry the truth from the recesses of her mind.

 

“I mean...” Hancock began, trying to think of how to better explain the severity if his query. “When I say trust, I mean _complete_ trust. Like if I told you that you had to do something, you'd do it, even if it sounded crazy?”

 

She arched an eyebrow, confused by his meaning. _What is he getting at?_

 

“Like if I told you right now to jump off the edge of this balcony, would you do it?”

 

Scarlet cocked her head, unable to make heads or tails of his intentions. She assumed it was a hypothetical, so she pondered the true implications of it. But even as her mind raced in circles, she was brought back around to the idea of actually climbing over the railing and dropping several stories below. Maybe it wouldn't kill her, but she'd probably break both of her legs. _Would I really do it if he asked me?_

 

Hancock searched her expression. Sensing her trepidation, he interrupted her thoughts. “It's alright if you say no.”

 

“No,” she said quickly. “I mean, yes. I mean...” She smiled at her muddled words, taking a beat to collect herself. “I would. I trust you. I've always trusted you. You're the only person I think I've ever been able to trust completely. And I mean ever, not just since I left the vault.”

 

The edges of his lips curled upward, and his black eyes shimmered, capturing the white-blue reflection of the starry night. He leaned forward, holding her firmly in place as mouth descended to hers, seizing her in a passionate kiss.

 

Scarlet's palms pressed flat against his chest, then she snaked her arms around him beneath his coat and gripped the fabric of his shirt. Their mouths rippled against each other, drawing out each pulse. He relished the softness of her lips. They were more intoxicating than moonshine, more enlivening than a dose of daytripper, more potent than a syringe of med-ex being shot straight into his heart. Ever time he kissed her, it was like he was riding the best high of his life; it left him tingling all over, made his heart pound in his ears, made his head swim, and flooded his veins with an indescribable euphoria.

 

He took his hand back out of his pocket and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek, hooking around her ear and settling along her jaw and the side of her neck. She nearly shattered under his touch. He always put the whole of himself into his kisses, and she drunk it in greedily, savoring the earthy spiciness of his unique flavor and letting go of her mind as she enjoyed the feeling. She was always anxious, always fretting about something. Even when sleeping her mind never turned off, dreaming and scheming through the night. But when he kissed her, it was like he could reach into her head and flip the power switch; her mind went blank in the most wonderful way. All she could think about was him, his lips, his touch, and the overwhelming love she held for him in that moment.

 

Scarlet pulled her head back suddenly, letting out a small squeak. It felt like some kind of bug had just bitten her neck. She instinctively put her hand to the spot, recoiling as she noticed his hand was already there.

 

_What the..._

 

As she searched his eyes, they started to go out of focus. She blinked several times, attempting to clear the haze. But it only got worse as the world around her quickly began losing its detail. She reached up to adjust her glasses, but her arm was heavy. Too heavy. It fell limply to her side, along with the other, and she struggled to keep her head up.

 

It was as if the force of gravity had been amplified tenfold. Her knees buckled and her body felt like it was being sucked to the floor. Hancock caught her around the waist and supported her as she lost control. The cloudiness of her vision had grown into a heavy fog, and the void of unconsciousness threatened to claim her any second.

 

The last thing she saw before the world finally faded to black was Hancock's smile, wide and sinister, and he chuckled darkly as she fell into the abyss.


	11. Hitting the Reset Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all knew it was gonna happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some song lyrics stolen from the song "Desire" by Meg Myers.

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

 

Scarlet blinked rapidly and opened her eyes. She squinted in a vain attempt to bring her surroundings into focus, but she could see only splotches of color and blurry outlines. Hancock was somewhere in front of her, but she couldn't see him, and was only aware of his presence by the sound of his voice.

 

Her arms were stretched above her head, and there was a painful pressure around her wrists. As she attempted to move her arms, the cold steel of handcuffs dug into her flesh, and her hands tingled with the restricted blood flow.

 

The taught limbs were sore from supporting her weight, and she quickly planted her feet beneath her. The floor was cold and concrete against them, and she found that she could hardly move them, either; a thick braid of rope was wrapped around each ankle and tied off to either side, allowing her to stand but otherwise immobilizing her.

 

Her teeth chattered and the fine hairs all over her body stood up. She was freezing. Even before she looked down at her body, she knew she was mostly naked. The only shield against the chilly air was a black bra and a matching thong. The rest of her was starkly exposed beneath a bright fluorescent light on the ceiling that illuminated the immediate area around her, and kept her from discerning much else beyond it.

 

“John... what...” she mumbled. Her head was groggy and aching, and she couldn't recall anything that happened after being on the balcony with him last night.

 

“It's about time you woke up. I was gettin' ready to give you a hit of psycho.”

 

She craned her head forward. She realized she wasn't wearing her glasses, and it was impossible to pinpoint exactly where he was. For that matter, she didn't know where _she_ was. The air was damp and musty, and she couldn't see or feel any natural light. They were likely in a basement, but her precise location was anybody's guess.

 

“Don't worry,” his voice rang out. He noted the confused look on her face and answered her before she could ask. “We're still at the State House, in the sub-basement. Nice and safe.”

 

His voice had a dark edge to it that unsettled her. She struggled to make sense of what was happening. _Why am I tied up? How did we get here? Was I drugged?_ She wriggled a little, testing the bindings that were tethering her. Darting her head to either side, she saw what looked like some kind of a steel frame around her, possibly a piece of athletic equipment.

 

“What's going on?” The shock of her situation was bringing her around quickly, despite whatever substance was working its way out of her.

 

The legs of a chair scraped across the floor. A pair of boots landed with a thud, then struck the concrete slowly and rhythmically, growing louder as they neared her. Each of Hancock's features gradually materialized as he stepped into the light. The fuzzy silhouette of his black hat, his red coat, his scarred face, appeared before her. He was fidgeting with something... _A knife._ He pressed the pointed tip into his finger and rotated it at the handle, and an ominous smile crept across his lips.

 

“Wouldn't you like to know?” he taunted.

 

“Where are my glasses?” she asked, squinting at his face. They were always the first thing she reached for when she woke up in the morning, being hopelessly blind without them.

 

“Well I thought about blindfolding ya, but I like this a lot better. I get to see those pretty blue eyes of yours.”

 

 _Is this some kind of weird sexual fantasy of his?_ Scarlet attempted again to move her arms and legs. The bindings cut painfully into her wrists and ankles. If he really was just trying to play a game with her, it was off to a bad start. Being tied up so tightly she was losing circulation, so cold she couldn't stop shaking, and disoriented and frustrated by her lack of clear vision, it was a little too much.

 

“This isn't funny, John,” she said gravely.

 

“It ain't exactly funny,” he said, still grinning. “But amusing, yeah. Definitely amusing.”

 

Scarlet glared at him, but couldn't manage to respond over the chattering of her teeth. He stepped a little closer and she tried to pinpoint on his eyes. They were almost radiant with satisfaction as he ogled her half-naked body, and he was clearly enjoying the vulnerability of her position.

 

“Aw, what's the matter? You cold?” he said, the words dripping sarcastically from his snickering mouth. “Let's get your blood flowin' a little...”

 

In one stride, he closed the gap between them, then clamped his hand over her mouth. The force pushed her head back slightly, and in one swift motion he raked the tip of the knife horizontally across the top of her stomach.

 

She tried to scream as she felt the blade pierce the sensitive skin, but the sound vibrated against his palm and back into her throat. It wasn't a very deep cut, but it stung unmercifully, and several warm droplets of blood beaded and dripped from the wound, leaving hot wet trails as they trickled along her abdomen.

 

Hancock spun his knife in his hand and tucked it back into his belt, but kept his other hand on her mouth until he was sure that she had finished screaming.

 

“There, that better?”

 

Scarlet sucked in the air sharply as he drew his hand away. Her eyes were welling up with tears, partly from the pain of the blade, and partly because of her mounting terror. If this was a sexual experiment, it was far beyond anything they had done before, and definitely beyond the scope of her imagination. She never thought he would go this far, especially without warning her ahead of time. The way things were progressing, it was too much, too soon.

 

“Seriously, John,” she forced out as the tears in her eyes spilled over. “I don't wanna do this. Let me out of here.”

 

“Ain't gonna happen, babe.”

 

She clenched her fists and thrust her body forward, fighting against her ties. “I mean it!” she shouted. “Let me go or I'll-”

 

She was cut short by the collision of the back of his hand against her cheek. The sound of the strike echoed from the walls, and the force of the blow knocked her head to the side.

 

“You'd better watch what you say from now on,” he said lowly. “Or I might decide to shut you up permanently.”

 

As she felt the blood rushing to the point of impact, she knew there would be a bruise. This wasn't like when he had smacked her ass while he was fucking her, or grabbed her around the neck when he had her against the wall. In those instances, he had stopped just short of causing her any actual harm. But he hadn't held back when his hand hit her face. The pain of the blow was very real, and the power behind it backed up the inherent threat in his words.

 

While she was still recovering from the shock of his hit, he took hold of her face, squishing the sides of her cheeks until her lips puffed outward. He leaned in and grabbed at them with his own, starting at the corner of her mouth and working his way along them until he had covered the entire area with a series of greedy kisses. A bolt of electricity shot from the site down to her core, and against her will, her inner walls pulsed, expelling a gush of moisture into the thin liner of her panties.

 

He released his grip, and her neck went limp. She hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut, squeezing out her tears and sending them rolling down her face. “I don't like this,” she whispered, suppressing her sobs. She didn't want to anger him and provoke another strike. But she felt compelled to say something in protest. If this was the same John she knew and loved, he would listen, and he wouldn't continue with this if she wasn't enjoying herself.

 

Hancock just kept smiling and slid his fingers down the front of her underwear, cupping his palm until his fingertips contacted the moisture that was growing just outside of her opening.

 

“You say you don't like it, but your body's telling me a different story.” Her pussy twitched unconsciously as he circled his fingertips a few times, spreading her wetness into her folds. She followed his hand with her eyes as he withdrew it and brought it to his mouth, and watched as he sucked hungrily until he had cleaned his fingers of her juices.

 

Scarlet hissed as he grabbed the short hair on top of her head in a tight fist and jerked, tilting her face to the side. He leaned in and pressed his lips against her ear, chuckling softly. “You're a freak.” His hot breath was followed by the tip of his tongue circling her earlobe, causing a cascade of shudders to ripple through her body.

 

Scarlet's eyes snapped open and her breath hitched as she now realized what he was doing. Those were the words Winlock had said to her after his assault, after she had feigned desire to keep him distracted enough so she could secure her escape. Hancock had asked her to tell him everything that happened at Haymarket, and she had done so reluctantly. He knew very well what he was saying, and she quickly surmised why.

 

_“_ _I wish I could take everything he did to me and replace it with you, so I'd never have to think about him again.”_

 

And if he did his job right, she never would. Scarlet would be able to purge the event from her mind, or at least re-wire it into something less awful, less gruesome, even turning it into something beautiful. And John, even if unable to forgive himself, would at least be able to clear the hurdles that he had constructed in his own head, the barriers that kept him from fulfilling her desires. He could re-claim that which was stolen, consummate his ownership, and obliterate the power it held over them both.

 

After he released his grip on her hair, Scarlet looked down at her stomach, assessing the damage of his knife.

 

“You like your outfit?” Hancock meandered away from her, pacing absently as he spoke. “Placed a special order with Fallon's in Diamond City.”

 

She thought it looked familiar. It was the same set of underwear he had offered to buy her, but she rejected on the grounds that it was a waste of money. The fact that she was chained up and dressed in them carried a conspicuous implication; regardless of the dynamic they had established, right now, in this room, he was in control.

 

She could see the blurry shape of a desk off to her right, and Hancock sparked up a cigarette as he leaned back against it. “I gotta say, you look good in black.”

 

Upon smelling the burning tobacco her mouth began to water. She had no idea of the time, having no natural light for reference, and couldn't determine how long she had been unconscious. But in spite of that she found her first craving to be not for food or water, but a cigarette. It felt to her like eons since she had one.

 

Hancock heard her deep inhalation and sauntered over, holding the filtered end to her lips. She took a long drag and held the smoke in her lungs momentarily before letting it out with an allieviated sigh. Hancock took a drag himself, and blew the smoke straight from his smiling mouth onto her face. She coughed and her eyes watered even more, trying and somewhat succeeding to turn her head far enough away to avoid it.

 

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, with more anticipation than she had wanted her voice to reveal. She was being whipped back and forth between dread and desire, and as he bored into her with ravenous eyes, the two feelings were beginning to combine into one delicious and unexpected sensation.

 

“Now that's a good question,” he mused. His eyes raked across her body and he took hold of the metal frame that held her captive. “What am I going to do to you?” he pondered aloud, though by his cavalier expression he had already thought it out.

 

He stepped around the side of her, circling her limp and imprisoned body as he spoke. “I'm gonna touch you...” She shivered at the feeling of his fingertips brushing around her neck. “I'm gonna taste you...” He lapped at the back of her shoulder briefly, hissing in his breath as he put his mouth to her ear. “I'm gonna skin you with my tongue.”

 

A jet of fire ran the course of her body into her center as he ran the velvety tip of his tongue around the edge of her ear, pausing to suck at the lobe before pulling away.

 

He swung around the other side of the frame, coming to a halt in front of her. “I'm gonna fuck you...” He leaned in closer, the fire in his breath pulsing over her lips. “...'Till you feel it in your bones.”

 

A high-pitched squeak was forced from her throat as he seized her by the neck. “I'm gonna hurt you...” He increased the pressure around her throat with his palm, and her eyes went wild as he nearly blocked the flow of oxygen completely. He was so close now that he was only a hair's width from her face, and his words splintered over his teeth and cut into her gaping mouth. “I'm gonna _break_ you.”

 

Her face was already turning blue as he extracted an unwilling kiss, placing the entirety of his mouth around hers. She fought to pull away and draw in a much-needed breath, but he had completely sealed her off. Only after he had consumed his fill did he release the pressure from her windpipe and exhale into her mouth, allowing her to breathe, but only the air that came directly from his lungs.

 

Hancock withdrew from her face and she gasped for air. He offered her a puff of his cigarette again, which she hastily accepted between desperate pants. He finished it off then flicked it away, leaving both hands free to run hungrily along her sides.

 

Her arms ached with the effort they had spent while supporting her unconscious body, her wrists raw and chaffed from the handcuffs save her left, which was spared some of the force from the red and blue strip of cloth she wore. Her cheek still tingled from the impact of his hand, and her neck was sore from the ferocity of his hold. _He didn't have to go this far,_ she inwardly lamented. _It's too much. I can't do this._

 

“Why are you doing this?” she pleaded, another rush of tears falling along her freckled cheeks. “You didn't have to drug me.”

 

“You said you trusted me, remember?” He ran his index finger over her face, flicking away a teardrop while sporting a haughty grin.

 

“It hurts... Please let me go,” she whimpered. His treatment of her was sadistic in a way she could never have predicted. Maybe if he had asked her, or warned her, or even given her the faintest clue that he had this scenario in mind, it would have been more bearable. But he hadn't bothered asking permission, or doing anything that would indicate a basic level of respect. She was humiliated beyond imagination, and wave after wave of bitter tears collected beneath her chin and dripped to the floor.

 

“I thought you liked it rough.” He was sneering now, reveling in her torment.

 

“Not like this...” She implored him softly and gazed helplessly up at him with her shiny blue eyes. She wanted to tell him to stop, demand that he release her, but she didn't want to invoke his wrath again. He had already demonstrated that he wasn't going to be lenient with her. He wasn't going to hold back.

 

“It's a little late for that now.” His voice dripped with mock regret as he latched onto one of her hips, then snaked his finger down her neck and over her collarbone. Against her will, she wanted him to kiss her again, to snatch her by the throat like he had before. But she tried not to let her ardor show and shut her eyes tight against his violating touch.

 

“Normally in this kinda situation I'd give you some kind of a safe word, somethin' you could say if it was too much for ya.” She snuck a peek between her lids. His brows were arched sympathetically, though she was sure it wasn't sincere. “'Cause sometimes 'no' means 'yes,' and sometimes 'stop' means 'go,' so you need an out. Some way to let me know you're serious.” Scarlet bit her lip, waiting on pins and needles for him to tell her what it was. If some kind of password was what it took to end this torture, she was ready to use it.

 

“But since you trust me so much, we don't need to bother with that shit, right?”

 

Scarlet's lower lip trembled as her reality sunk in. This wasn't a fantasy. It wasn't a game. It was real. She was forsaken to his will, and not in a way that was playful or sensual. Hancock may have been smiling, but she was overcome with terror, and labored to come to grips with what she was facing.

 

He took the knife from his belt and held the serrated edge to her throat, so firmly she dared not breathe too hard lest she puncture her own flesh. His free hand traveled down, running painfully over the fresh scar on her stomach and dragging a trail of blood along as he slid into the front of her underwear.

 

She pressed her lips together and held back a cry as he pushed a finger against her clit. She bit the inside of her bottom lip as she felt another finger running along her slit, spreading her shameful effluence over every fold.

 

She didn't want it to feel so good. But it did. He knew just how to touch her, just how to coax her body to conspire against her. Tingling pulses fired from his fingertips to her center, and her walls were contracting around nothing and oozing a steady stream of nectar.

 

Hancock kept his knife horizontal against her throat and began nipping the side of her neck, barely allowing his teeth to graze the skin. He followed the curve until it met her shoulder. The mark on the other side was fading into a yellowish-brown, and he wasted no time in fusing his lips to the site and engulfing the flesh until it almost tore from the bone.

 

He growled at the feeling of a stifled wail vibrating her vocal chords and buzzing against the blade. Hancock sucked her skin ravenously, not letting up until her chest swelled with restrained sobs. She dug her fingernails into her palms and her muscles tensed as the pain mounted, and her pussy was practically gushing as he worked her with his fingers.

 

She almost couldn't take it anymore. She was convinced he was going to tear a chunk out of her shoulder, when all at once he removed his mouth, the knife, and his hand, leaving her simultaneously relieved and starving for his nearness.

 

Ragged breaths shook her from head to toe. She was wincing from the fresh mark he had given her, which was already a roaring shade of violet. The outline of his teeth was visible where the edges had broken the skin. And yet, through her pain, her mouth had fallen open with yearning. A pool of saliva had collected in the bottom of her mouth, mirroring the gathering of moisture that spread over her loins.

 

“You're lovin' this, aren't you?”

 

Scarlet didn't answer, but she knew he could read the lascivious signals of her body. The intense pain, followed by a rapid release, the line he was toeing between predation and pleasure, it all swirled into a primal craving that rioted within her. She wanted to be fucked, to be used, to surrender her soul and lay her life at his feet.

 

An odd sense of peace overcame her as Hancock circled behind her, laying a gentle hand upon her hip. The tip of his knife poked her in the center of her back, just above the line of her underwear, and he held her steady as she jumped a little at the feeling. Then, applying just enough pressure to avoid breaking the skin, he raised the handle and ran the back edge of it up along the ridge of her spine, all the way to the base of her skull.

 

Scarlet gasped as he applied the flat of his tongue to where the knife had started and repeated its path. The wet trail he left behind chilled her, as if he had shot an icicle into her spine. She closed her eyes and absorbed the pulsation of his lips against the back of her neck, and Hancock deftly tucked his knife into his belt.

 

“You're mine...” he whispered against her damp skin. He swiped his hand from her hip and laid it against her ass, running his finger along the strip of fabric between her buttocks. Unconsciously she raised her hips, coaxing him to slide down to her yearning pussy. He bade her request, but only let his fingertip graze over the outside of the fabric.

 

Hancock made a low noise of accomplishment and leaned in, wrapping his free hand around her neck, but only just brushing lightly along her skin.

 

“You belong to me,” he growled. She stood on her tiptoes and wriggled around, almost hysterical with need as she worked to stimulate herself against his agonizingly light touch. The masculine rumbling of his voice made her arousal all the more intense, and a low moan burned from her chest to her throat.

 

The sound was constrained by his sudden grasp. His large, rough hand enveloped her neck almost completely, and he applied just enough force to send a cold surge of fear back through her veins.   
“I want you to say it,” he commanded, gritting his teeth. “I want to hear it from your mouth.”

 

“I- I belong to you,” she whimpered, her will still conflicted between acceptance and panic.

 

“Like you _mean_ it,” he snarled.

 

His hold was tight, but he left her enough leeway to summon a louder response. “I belong to you,” she said as firmly as she could manage.

 

“Who do you belong to?”

 

“I belong to you, John!” Scarlet was almost wailing, being trapped not only by her physical restraints, but by her mounting lust. “I'm yours, John, I'm all yours...” Her voice trailed off into plaintive mewls, and her head would have gone limp if not for the pull of his hand.

 

Hancock hooked the crotch of her thong and snapped it to the side, leaving just enough room to thrust two fingers sharply into her dripping cunt until his knuckles smashed against her opening.

 

Scarlet made a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a shriek, overtaken by his abrupt and reckless invasion. He released his hand from her neck and wrapped his arm around it, his elbow beneath her chin, and pulled her close until his chest was against her back.

 

She was so slick from his prolonged torment that his fingers met no resistance as he plundered her depths. His fist squelched against her folds with every impact, and her overflowing juices gushed over his hand until it was coated with sweet ambrosia.

 

Hancock kept up an unforgiving pace. Scarlet panted and heaved and thrust against him as much as she could. She relished her subordination within his powerful hold, and squirmed at the feeling of his constrained erection pushing into her bare back. The punishment he gave her with his fingers provided a thrilling opposition to his soft, frequent kisses showering the nape of her neck.

 

“You gonna come for me?” His muffled voice was buttery and soothing as it worked its way into her back and shot right into her clit. She pressed her thighs together and clamped down on his fingers. She could feel the smile on his face as her walls clenched with every insertion, bringing her to an earth-shattering climax.

 

Scarlet thought she would faint. As she mounted the pinnacle of her lust she dove headlong over the cliff, exhilarated, terrified, crashing into a turbulent ocean that drowned her under waves of boundless pleasure.

 

A sultry moan bubbled from deep within and ripped its way from her lungs. Hancock held her fast as she contracted over his invading fingers and writhed in her confines. She thrashed and trembled and rattled her handcuffs against the iron frame.

 

After each consecutive pulse of her pelvis, she gradually wilted in his hold until she was nothing but a lifeless shell. He held his mouth to her back, waiting out the tempest of her orgasm until it faded.

 

Then he released her. He removed his fingers, creating a void that left her destitute. Her melting tension, combined with his retreat, forced a swell of tears from the slits of her eyes.

 

Hancock laved the creamy honey of her arousal from his hand and fingers. He stepped around so that she could see him, humming with satisfaction as he enjoyed her flavor.

 

Her legs wobbled beneath her and her torso was limp, her weight supported at her wrists. Her chin was pressed to her chest, and silent tears were spilling over her jawline and down her neck.

 

He silently stooped to her ankles and cut the ropes that held her to the frame. Then he reached up to where the shackles were secured to the structure and removed a small key from the cuff of his sleeve. He unfastened one, then the other, and she collapsed, weeping with relief, into his arms.

 

Hancock held her trembling form to him for a moment. He inhaled softly; her scent was a mixture of musk, sweat, and sex that made him linger. But as he swept his palm tenderly over her hair, he clenched his hand into a fist and snatched the locks between his fingers, pulling back so hard that her neck almost snapped.

 

Looming his face over hers, he bored into her with narrowed eyes. “I'm not finished with you, yet.” He snatched her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down briefly, but aggressively enough to draw a bit of blood. He ran his tongue along the base of her gums, sampling a taste of where he had punctured her flesh.

 

Scarlet cried out as he dragged her by the back of her head over to the desk and slammed her face down against the surface. He had replaced the key to her handcuffs in his sleeve, and wrested her arms behind her back until he was able to lock the two open loops together, binding her once again.

 

“John, please, stop!” she begged. She kicked her legs out behind her and attempted to lift her battered frame from the desk.

 

But he flattened a palm on the center of her back and pushed down, pinning her in place. “You'd better behave yourself, or I'm gonna have to get my knife out again.”

 

She lay the side of her face despondently against the surface. Now, she shed tears of utter resignation. “I can't keep going... I can't...”

 

“Yes, you can.” His palm ran along her back and he slid around the side of the desk, ensuring he didn't break contact as he took up a position at her head. He raked his fingertips toward him, brushing her cheek, before he began to unbutton his pants.

 

Scarlet heard the scrape of his zipper and the rustling of fabric. Craning her neck, she stole a glance at him as he freed his pulsating cock, the wet tip sliding over her forehead as it sprang upward. He held his shaft in a rigid fist, slipping the other hand under her face and guiding it until her chin rested uncomfortably against the steel desktop.

 

Her face was poised at the edge, and his member swelled and twitched in his hand with anticipation. Hancock lowered his fist, aiming the angry purple head at her trembling lips.

 

“Open up.” He slapped her a couple times on the cheek, coercing her to strain against her bottom jaw until she had opened just wide enough to receive him. Unceremoniously, he pushed his hips forward until his cock was about halfway in, then paused to relish his conquest with a satisfied groan.

 

“Look at me,” he barked. She had tried to shut her eyes, attempting in some way to shield herself from his onslaught. But she complied, afraid of being reprimanded, and blinked away fresh tears as he locked her in his gaze.

 

He held her head firmly in his hands and pulled out to the head, not wanting to remove himself completely lest she close her mouth. Then, with a primal grunt, he forced the entire length of himself into her warm, wet mouth, his tip colliding with the back of her throat.

 

Hancock repeated the motion, bucking his hips as his shaft was enveloped again and again by her stretched pink lips. He wanted to go deeper, but she was resisting, and her eyes were wide with fear.

 

Releasing one of his hands from her head, he rubbed it beneath her chin and along her throat. “Relax,” he commanded.

 

She did her best to open up and relax her muscles, allowing him to bury himself to his balls on his next push. He tossed his head back and tugged at her face, forcing his cock in as far as it could possibly go. He held onto her for a moment, waiting until she was gagging and whimpering to finally withdraw, and she gasped for air when he gifted her with a total retreat.

 

But her repast was short. He buried himself to the hilt once again, and she struggled in his grip as she retched and writhed against his invasion.

 

Hancock fucked her face with abandon, his thrusts sharp and wild as he worked himself in and out of her mouth. He hissed with pleasure as he looked into her eyes, watching her teardrops running in an endless stream down her face.

 

She could have bitten down. She could have even run away, her legs now free and unrestrained. But she had given up absolutely. A small, sick, irrational part of her was even enjoying this assault. Each time she felt his balls against her face and the suffocating thickness of his cock in her throat, her hips seemed to automatically roll a little. Each movement ground her clitoris against the edge, and she was climbing to another peak even through her distress.

 

As his grip around her face tightened and his thrusts became quicker, she prepared herself for his release. She was actually anxious for it, as it would probably herald the end of her strife. But he stopped just short of cumming, letting out a sigh as he let go of her head and popped his cock from her mouth.

 

Hancock removed his hat and coat, letting them fall on the floor behind him. He began lifting his shirt over his head as he made his way around to her rear, making small appreciative noises as he examined her. He was directly behind her when he removed his pants, and once he had kicked them away, he curled his fingers around the fabric at her hips and ripped downward until her thong slipped over her feet.

 

Her red, exposed pussy almost begged him to enter. Hancock didn't need to pause and line himself up; they were both soaking, her from her own desire, and him from the wetness of her mouth. His cock slipped easily inside as he leaned into her. At the same time, he took the lacy underwear in his hands and stretched it over face, pulling it between her teeth like a bridle and lifting her chest off the desk.

 

He pounded her cunt like a rutting beast, grunting and cursing at each smack of his hips against her ass. And each thrust was punctuated with Scarlet's hard clit bumping into the edge of the desk. His frenzied rhythm was bringing them both to the edge quickly. Hancock gritted his teeth and tried to keep himself from blowing up inside of her, and waited eagerly for her building screams to crest and her walls to spasm around his cock.

 

Her vocal chords sounded like they were breaking as she let out a guttural moan of pleasure, muffled slightly by the stretched panties in her mouth. Hancock could feel the barrier of her womb pulsing around the head of his cock, and she ground her hips against his through each violent contraction of her core.

 

She was still coming when he lost control. He let go of either end of her makeshift reigns and pulled out his member. He rested the tip against her folds as he fisted it, pumping streams of hot cum into her slit.

 

Scarlet delighted at the feeling of each rope of jism that traveled from her opening to the hood of her clitoris, until it overflowed and spilled onto the floor.

 

After the last spurt of cum was expelled, he nearly collapsed onto her back, his weight resting painfully against her cuffed wrists. But she was too overwhelmed with pleasure to care. She lay her head down, panting into the saliva-soaked underwear between her teeth.

 

At some length, Hancock hoisted himself up, placing a few kisses along her back as he did. She was limp and practically lifeless, watching him passively beneath heavy lids as he went to his coat to retrieve the key to her handcuffs.

 

He unfastened both wrists and cast the shackles aside. She let out a few half-hearted groans, but otherwise made no protest while he peeled her weakened frame from the desk. Turning her around, he bent to sweep her legs up and supported her shoulders, carrying her off in his sheltering arms.

 

Scarlet was too delirious to see where he took her, but he eventually lay her down against a soft mattress, and gave her a tender, lingering kiss on her parted lips before disappearing out of earshot. Tears of relief spilled from the corners of her eyes, and she lay with outstretched arms and splayed legs, a tranquil buzz coursing through her veins with every heartbeat and spreading into her fingertips and toes.

 

Hancock returned shortly with his knife and cut the remaining rope from her ankles. Setting it aside, he crawled into bed next to her and pulled a warm, satiny blanket over her shuddering body. He wrapped a soothing arm around her waist and pulled her close, sharing his body heat with her.

 

His lips were soft and yielding against her face as he kissed her cheeks, attempting to capture each teardrop as it fell. Her gentle sobs slowed as he enveloped her. There was no more malice, no more hostility. He was all comfort now, all tenderness and adoration, and he covered her with soft caresses and purred lovingly in her ear.

 

“You alright, Sunshine?” he finally asked as she buried her face into his chest.

 

She shook her head up and down as much as she could, but couldn't summon the effort to speak.

 

He held her in a covetous embrace, pressing kiss after kiss against her damp forehead. After a few minutes, her tears had stopped flowing, and her breaths were steady and even. The unhurried pace of his heartbeat drowned out any remaining tension she had left, and Scarlet was washed over with a blissful wave of peace.

 

Once he was certain that she was calm, he pulled his face away and looked into her wearied eyes. His gaze was reverent, almost worshipful, and he lovingly stroked the side of her face. “You were incredible,” he whispered.

 

In spite of everything that had happened, in spite of her bruised face and sore neck, in spite of the gash on her stomach and the aching of her insides, she smiled. He had indeed broken her. He had utterly destroyed her, dragged her into the depths of hell and pulled her out again, barely alive but with her demons absconded. Her spirit was renewed, her mind reset, and ready to build upon the pile of rubble that remained.

 

He tepidly rested his lips upon hers, conveying every note of gratitude and admiration that beat within his breast. Having accomplished what he had set out to do, he sought to restore her, and held her in a passionate embrace, even long after she had fallen asleep. He knew that when she woke up, they would both be free, and they could finally be one.


	12. Combat Zone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This stupid plot is getting in the way of all my smut. Sorry!

Seven days went by. Or was it ten? It was somewhere in there, Scarlet figured, but she hadn't really been keeping track. It was probably the first time in her life she didn't know the exact date or time, and definitely the first time that she truly didn't care.

 

She had practically fused to John's bed at the State House. She only got up to use the bathroom, and even then, he carried her there more often than not. He attended to her every need, bringing her cans of purified water, bottles of Nuka-Cola, beer, whiskey, mutfruit cocktails, whatever she wanted. He would bring her platters of food, indulgent even by pre-war standards. And when she requested a hit of jet, he would courteously pass the vapor to her mouth after a brief course through his own lungs, taking out the initial harshness that usually left her coughing.

 

Hancock doted on her endlessly during that time, caring for her as if she were helpless invalid. He read her passages from the few dusty tomes in his library as she sprawled out on the bed. He would cut her Brahmin steak into small pieces and feed it to her, offer each beverage with a straw so that she didn't even have to lean forward to take a sip, even managed to bathe her using a towel soaked in warm, purified water, all so that she could remain in his bed, rested and ready for him to take her again and again.

 

Their unions fluctuated between tender lovemaking and primal fucking, whatever struck Scarlet's fancy at the time. He took painstaking efforts to read her every signal and judge her moods. She found that she didn't even have to vocalize her desires; just when she had almost had enough of his hands around her neck, or his teeth gnawing mercilessly at her aching nipples, he would pull back, as if somehow able to read her mind, and caress her with the gentleness of a newborn kitten, gracing whatever fresh scars he had given her with a healing press of his lips.

 

 _“_ _You're a filthy slut. You're a whore._ My _whore.”_ Hancock would growl and shout obscenities at her as she writhed beneath him, even forcing her to repeat them in the brief moments when he wasn't ramming his cock down her throat or choking the life out of her.

 

 _“_ _You're so beautiful. You're an angel._ My _angel.”_ He lavished her with praise and declarations of love that made her heart explode into millions of pieces, and leave her weeping with joy and ecstasy as they came together, him clinging to her like a priceless treasure and gazing adoringly into her eyes.

 

And each time the daylight faded from the curtained window of their little sanctuary, all of it miraculously made sense. It all converged from every point of the spectrum into something perfect, holy even, creating a seamless continuum that left them broken yet unbreakable, destroyed yet indestructible, binding them together in a way neither had thought possible.

 

Scarlet had left the quest to find Shaun in the Detective's capable hands, and to her surprise, she didn't give it much thought during that time. But even though her body was being hardened by her nonstop physical exertions – dare she say she even lost a few pounds after over a week in bed – her mind needed some kind of stimulation. She was always driven toward some kind of self-improvement, especially now, when she had to develop an entirely new skill set to cope with the world around her. As much as she had enjoyed her respite, she didn't want to atrophy while waiting for word of Nick's progress, and eventually, her cabin fever got the best of her.

 

“What do you wanna do, practice shooting?” Hancock asked her. They were cuddled up naked together, smoking cigarettes and sporting contented smiles from their recent coupling.

 

“I don't know if there's much more I can learn,” she sighed, exhaling a stream of smoke into the humid air of their love nest.

 

“You could try out a different weapon,” he offered, tightening the arm that held her against his chest. He traced small circles over her upper arm as he spoke. “I think Fahrenheit might have an old Gatling laser around here somewhere.”

 

“Pfft. As if I could even hold something like that long enough to aim it.”

 

“Well, maybe you should do some push-ups.” He nudged her with his forehead and wiggled his brow suggestively. “Or, there's probably a few things we could try to build your upper-body strength...”

 

Scarlet playfully jabbed him with her elbow. “Why's it always gotta be about sex with you?” she teased, grinning ear-to-ear.

 

“It doesn't _have_ to, but it definitely makes things a lot more fun if you can work it in.”

 

He kissed her just behind her ear, making her giggle at the lightly ticklish sensation. She finished off her cigarette and extinguished it in the ashtray he had placed upon his chest, her eyes roaming nowhere in particular as she considered what she wanted to do. Things were unsettlingly open-ended at the moment.

 

“You know what's been bugging me?”

 

“What's that, Sunshine?”

 

“That fight at the Dugout. I can't believe I'm saying this, but if it hadn't been for Travis, that guy would've broken my arm.”

 

Hancock chuckled and put out his cigarette, setting the ashtray back on the end table. “Well if you want, we can practice some hand-to-hand combat.” He rolled over and latched onto her wrists, forcing them against the bed with a smile. “Ya know, the ancient Greeks used to wrestle completely naked, all oiled up...”

 

“John!” she chided, smiling up at him. “I'm being serious.” She squirmed a little, then pulled her knees to her chest, readying to push him off.

 

“So am I,” he growled. He wedged his hips in-between her knees and thrust forward, splaying her thighs apart. She gasped as he bent down to her neck, grazing his teeth along her flesh.

 

“John...” she whined rather helplessly, annoyed and aroused by the feeling of his member hardening against her folds.

 

Hancock relaxed his hold on her wrists and caressed her arms, bringing his hands toward her face before pulling away to look at her. “What's the matter? Don't think you can beat me?” he goaded.

 

“I _know_ I can't beat you,” she grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck. “If I'm gonna learn how to fight, I should probably learn from a woman. You know, someone who can show me things I can actually do.”

 

“C'mon. I think with enough practice, you could learn how to break somebody's neck with your bare hands.”

 

“Maybe after years of pumping iron!” she said dubiously. “I think I oughta focus on self-defense. You think Fahrenheit can show me some moves?”

 

“You'd be surprised, she's pretty useless without her gun.” Hancock's easy smile all at once turned into a frown, and his brow creased with worry. “Uh, don't tell her I said that...”

 

A hearty laugh rolled from Scarlet's chest. “Oh, I've got you now! You'd better make sure not to piss me off, or I _will_ tell her.”

 

“You wouldn't.” Hancock attempted to kiss her, finding it nearly impossible with the smirk that was glued to his lips.

 

They tousled with each other for a minute until Scarlet shifted beneath him, and he lifted himself off of her so that she could sit up. She reached for her glasses, but Hancock was quick to snatch them up and slide the ends behind her ears. She beamed at him as he gave her a fond peck on the nose and sat back, allowing her space to stretch her arms.

 

“If you're serious about learning how to fight, I might just know somewhere we can go.”

 

Scarlet leaned forward on her hands and stared at him eagerly, waiting for him to continue. He tried not to stare at the way her breasts hung and swayed between her arms. If he wasn't so sure she'd slap him in the face, he would have reached out and grabbed them.

 

Hancock cleared his throat and tried to look her in the eye as he went on. “There's a place south of here called 'The Combat Zone.'” He noted the keenness of her look, and made a point to lower his voice and speak with a little more gravity. “It's a rough place, though. It's straight up raider country. You'd be shot on sight if you walked up there alone.”

 

Scarlet's face tightened with worry. “You should be safe if you're with me, though,” he said. “The owner, Tommy, is a friend of mine, and a ghoul. Us freaks gotta stick together.”

 

“What is the Combat Zone? Is it some kind of boxing arena?” she asked innocently.

 

“More like a fight club,” he answered, trying not to laugh at her naivete. “No holds barred, anything goes kind of thing. It's pretty fucking brutal. More often than not, somebody winds up dead.”

 

Scarlet swallowed hard over the lump in her throat. _Maybe push-ups aren't such a bad idea,_ she thought. This place seemed like a pretty big step for her level of experience.

 

Hancock could feel her reservation, and spoke quickly to try to ease her fears. “They're not gonna throw you into the cage without you volunteering. Not like I would let that happen, anyway.”

 

“So, do they have like, trainers there?” Scarlet sat back on her heels and clutched a pillow over her chest. The more he talked about it, the worse it sounded.

 

“Not exactly, but I'm pretty sure we can get someone who's up to the task.” Hancock fished out a pack of cigarettes from the pile of clothes on the floor next to him. “For the right amount of caps, or chems, you can convince a raider to do just about anything.” He put two cigarettes in his mouth and lit them both before handing one to Scarlet.

 

“Are there a lot of women there?” she asked, retrieving the ashtray from the nightstand.

 

“More than you'd think. In fact, I think I got someone in mind...” He leaned back against the bed frame and took a drag, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Last time I saw Tommy, 'bout a year ago, he had just taken on the contract of some girl who was fresh off the boat, all the way from Ireland. Cait, I think her name was. She was a fuckin' madwoman with a baseball bat. Saw her take down two men at once who were twice her size.”

 

There was a spark of admiration in his eyes. It wasn't much, but just enough to pluck a little bit of jealousy out of Scarlet. “Did you sleep with her?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

Hancock chuckled and looked off in the distance. “I think I tried. If I remember right, she was pretty cute.”

 

Scarlet scowled at him and crossed her arms with a snort.

 

“Hey, don't be like that. She doesn't hold a candle to you, Sunshine.” Scarlet's lips curled up and she sat back, blushing a little. “Plus she was nuts. Like certifiably crazy. And an addict. And if _I_ think you got a chem problem, you know it must be pretty bad.”

 

She narrowed her eyes incredulously. “You think she's gonna be the best one to teach me how to fight?”

 

“Yeah, I do. She's the best there is, far as I know. Unless she's been killed by someone more talented. But I don't think that's the case.”

 

Scarlet puffed away on her cigarette, considering the idea. Hancock was silent while she mulled it over. It was her decision, after all. If it were up to him, they would stay in bed until word came from Valentine. But if she set her mind to something, he wasn't going to stand in her way. He had tried and failed on more than one occasion.

 

“When can we leave?” she finally uttered, her face set with determination.

 

“It's not too far. If you want, we can leave today. We'll get there after dark, but that's when the action really starts to heat up.”

 

“Alright then!” she declared. She discarded her cigarette and rose enthusiastically from the bed. “Just lemme get dressed and we'll -”

 

“- Hold up.” Hancock grabbed her by the forearm, and she almost fell back from the unexpected restriction. Regaining her balance, she turned her head and gave him a questioning look.

 

He rolled out of bed and stood in front of her, clinging fast to her arm. “We leave today,” he began, looking down on her with a serious expression. “On one condition.”

 

“What's that?” she asked, playfully suspicious.

 

“You wear that underwear I bought you.”

 

Scarlet responded with a haughty laugh and ripped her arm away from his grip. “Fuck you,” she ribbed, then chuckled behind her closed lips.

 

He hooked an arm around her waist and drew her naked body to his, snickering devilishly. “Is that an invitation?”

 

She rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Why the hell do you want me to wear it? It's not like you're gonna be able to see it underneath all my armor.”

 

“Yeah, but I'll know it's there...”

 

“Fine,” she huffed, pushing him away after a quick peck on the lips. “So long as you try not to ogle my instructor.”

 

“I'll do my best. But it's gonna be hard not to stare when she's got you on the floor.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Scarlet was trying to look tough as she and Hancock walked down the alley leading to the Combat Zone's entrance. She resisted the urge to cling to his arm as they passed several raiders clustered along the walls, smoking, drinking, boasting, and carrying on. They wore studded leather, spiked leg braces, sported tattoos over their scarred skin, and grinned with mouths that were missing several teeth.

 

Fahrenheit had loaned her a few things to help her blend in better with this kind of crowd; a pair of skin-tight jeans, a white tank top, and a black leather jacket with the phrase “Atom Cats” on the back. Scarlet wished she could do without her glasses, which no doubt made her look like a walking bulls-eye. And, she was suddenly self-conscious about her cowboy hat. _I look like such a dweeb,_ she thought as she soaked in the deadly visages of the raiders around her, trying not to stare while she did.

 

She swallowed hard as Hancock strutted past the two enormous bouncers outside the door. Surprisingly, they gave neither her or the ghoul a second look as they entered. It never failed to impress her just how far-reaching his reputation was. She let out a small sigh of relief as they entered the vestibule of the dilapidated theater, realizing that she was going to be just fine with him around.

 

There was a ticket counter with two bookies behind it, and they were being swarmed by people clutching bags of caps and shouting out bets. Behind them were a couple of raiders on their knees, and probably handcuffed by the way they held their arms behind their backs. A huge, hand-painted sign that said “rule breakers” hung over their heads, which were shrouded in sack hoods.

 

Just as they were about to enter the theater, a dark-skinned man with a crooked nose and graying hair stepped in front of them. “Twenty caps,” he barked, holding out his grizzled hand.

 

“You guys are charging a cover now?” Hancock asked grudgingly, folding his arms in front of his chest.

 

“We've had problems with too many people comin' in to gawk without drinkin' or makin' bets. You wanna come inside, it's ten caps apiece.” The man eyed Scarlet briefly, his gaze traveling from head to toe and back again in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “But I'm willin' to go half price for the lady.”

 

“Fine,” Hancock grumbled. He plopped a small handful of caps into the man's palm before pushing past him, and Scarlet sidled up behind him.

 

The air rang with the sounds of breaking glass and blended shouts, and the heavy scents of grease and sweat flooded her nostrils. The stage had been converted into a combat arena, surrounded by a dome of wire fencing. There was nobody fighting at the moment, but as the two made their way in, she could see swatches of bright red standing out against the blue concrete floor underneath a spotlight.

 

“You alright?” he said low in her ear, guiding her to a table just a few rows back from the stage. He knew she was out of her element, and the way her head darted around, she was getting overwhelmed by all of the activity.

 

“Yeah...” she answered, her voice faltering. “Just need a drink to settle my nerves.”

 

Hancock caught the attention of a waitress walking by, wearing the tiniest little cocktail dress Scarlet had ever seen. He ordered two whiskeys and two beers, then leaned back in his chair, lighting two cigarettes and handing one to Scarlet.

 

“Try to relax and have fun,” he said. “We're just here to watch. Ain't nobody gonna mess with us as long as we mind our own business.”

 

She attempted to settle into her seat, but her heel bounced nervously against the floor as she waited for the waitress to come back. She promptly downed her whiskey as soon as it was set in front of her, chasing it with a gulp of beer.

 

 _“_ _Ladies and Gentlemen,”_ came a raspy voice booming over the arena. _“Are you ready for more blood?”_

 

The whole place erupted in a storm of whooping and cheering. Several people around them stood up from their chairs and raised their fists, their jeers coming together in a chant for blood.

 

_“_ _It's a good one, folks. An international battle royale. First up in the arena, the Canadian terror, raised by Bigfoot, weighing in at two hundred and twenty three pounds, give it up for... Slapshot!”_

 

The crowd was a mixture of boos and applause as a hulking man sauntered onto the stage. His face was concealed by a goalie's mask, but his bare, hairy chest was on display. Both arms were covered from shoulder to wrist in metal, and his steel knee pads were pointed at the top, sharp enough to stab whoever was unlucky enough to be kneed in the gut. His weapon of choice was a hockey stick, which he held proudly above his head. The curved end was wrapped several times with coils of rusty barbed wire, and the end that would have normally been blunt was sharpened into a shiv.

 

As he paced proudly in circles around the cage, the amplified voice continued over the din. _“_ _And next, coming all the way from the Emerald Isle, the little bird weighing in at a whopping ninety-seven pounds, you all know her and love her, the one and only... Cait!”_

 

“Guess we came at the right time!” Hancock clapped his hands and gave a shout, and the place was nearly brought down with the booming excitement of the arena's patrons. It was obvious who the crowd favorite was as a short, petite young woman with scraggly auburn hair bounced on stage, triumphantly raising a red baseball bat above her head. The audience responded by cheering even louder, and Cait cackled audibly enough to be heard through it all.

 

She was wearing no armor to speak of. Just a pair of army green pants, brown boots, and a ruddy leather corset that accentuated her modest breasts and slim waist. _She is pretty cute_ , thought Scarlet, casting a sidelong glance at Hancock to read his reaction. He seemed amused by the sight of Cait, but not in a way that made Scarlet feel threatened. Realistically she knew his past was just that – the past. He hadn't given her a reason to be suspicious. Not yet.

 

But she was a human woman after all, and not immune to feeling possessive of the man who had admitted to lusting after this girl before. She silently hoped she could chalk up her fears to irrational instincts, and tried to focus on seeing just how this slip of a woman could stand up to the raging, muscled hulk in the ring.

 

The two opponents circled each other for a moment. The crowd was riled up to their limit, chanting Cait's name and throwing beer bottles in Slapshot's direction. Snippets of their taunts floated over the din into Scarlet's ears. _“Fuck him up, Cait!” “Bash his skull in!” “_ _Make him cry like a little bitch!”_

 

Scarlet couldn't help but smile and clap her hands along with everyone else. The waitress had dropped off another glass of whiskey, and she was loosening up and allowing herself to get excited for the impending brawl.

 

 _“_ _Are you ready for a fight?!”_ The unseen announcer shouted. The roaring response was almost deafening, and Cait was hopping from foot to foot, appearing antsy to get things moving.

 

 _“Let's get it on!”_ The peel of a boxing bell could only just be heard, and the match had officially begun.

 

“This is gonna be good...” said Hancock with a grin. He sipped his beer and lit up another smoke before pulling a canister of jet out of his pocket. He offered it to Scarlet but she declined with a shake of her head, her eyes rapt and focused on the action.

 

Things started off pretty slow, much to the disappointment of the onlookers. Cait danced around the sides of the cage and Slapshot stalked after her, his hockey stick poised and ready to strike as soon as he got within range. But Cait kept her distance, only allowing him one brief swipe as she darted past him.

 

After nearly a solid two minutes of her evasion, the man looked like he was getting frustrated. He barreled toward the tiny woman, the barbed end of his stick behind his head in preparation to swing. Cait stood still as he closed in, and it seemed like she would almost certainly be hit when at the last moment, she rolled to the side, striking him in the heel with her bat as his weapon struck harmlessly against the cage.

 

Cait sprang up and stepped back as Slapshot groaned in pain, hopping around on his good foot to try and face her. She gave him a cheeky grin and re-positioned the bat in her hands, her tiny fingers tightening around the end.

 

He shook off the injury pretty quickly and planted his feet. Cait took the initiative this time and darted toward him, bat swinging. Slapshot braced himself in his position and raised his stick to block her attack. As her bat met the resistance of his weapon, he pushed her back with incredible force, leaving her reeling and struggling to stay on her feet. As she was regaining her balance, he smashed the barbed wire crusted end of the stick against her side and she fell over, landing on her arm with a high-pitched grunt.

 

Scarlet unconsciously chewed a fingernail as Slapshot prepared to strike her while she was down. But Cait scrambled to her feet just in time. As the hockey stick made contact with the bare floor, Cait whirled around and landed of furious wallop on his back. The crack struck the arena like thunder and he nearly fell to his knees, reaching behind him in an effort to feel where she had hit him.

 

The two fighters scuffled back and forth for several minutes. Cait was small and quick, and used her size to her advantage in order to avoid injury. At one point, Slapshot had her pinned up against the cage with his weapon against her neck, and it looked like it was all over when he lifted his knee to gouge her in the gut. But all she had to do was lean back a little and slip to the floor, even giving him another good hit on the same heel she had injured previously.

 

Slapshot had a difficult time keeping up, but what he lacked in speed, he made up for in endurance. Cait's strikes seemed like they hurt, especially when they landed in a particularly vulnerable spot like his neck or his stomach. But after a growl and a brief shake of his limbs, he would square up again, ready to take the next blow.

 

“I betchya he took some med-ex before the fight,” Hancock said disapprovingly. “Ain't no way he can still be standin' after all that.”

 

“Are chems not allowed?” Scarlet asked him, not looking away from the ring.

 

“They're allowed. But they're not exactly encouraged. Tommy likes to keep his fights clean.”

 

She nodded and watched the match intently. It looked like Cait might have been getting worn down. All of her dodging and acrobatics had left her painting, and her shoulder-length hair was damp and sticking to her sweat-soaked neck. She was nervous for her, but Hancock didn't look at all phased as he casually sipped his drink.

 

After butting her in the stomach with the edge of his stick, Cait floundered away and took a knee, lacing her fingers through the cage wall and supporting her weight against her bat. She hung her head and gasped for breath, likely having gotten the wind knocked out of her. Scarlet almost screamed as the man came up behind her, ready to end the match with one final bash of the hockey stick against her skull.

 

But like a coiled snake ready to deliver a venomous bite, she shot up from the floor, both hands firmly around her bat, and threw her weight into a swing that connected with Slapshot's face. His neck and head twisted to the side from the force, and flecks of blood and a couple of teeth could be seen flying from his mouth.

 

As he stumbled over, Cait leapt onto his back with a primal roar and hooked the baseball bat around his muscly neck. She positioned her hands on either end of the bat and dangled lifelessly against him, letting her body weight do the work of crushing his windpipe. He instinctively released his weapon as he reached up and tried to pry her off. It seemed to be just what she was waiting for, and she all at once let go and dropped to the floor.

 

Slapshot was still trying to catch his breath when she lunged at his head, bat-first, landing her strike right at the base of his skull. The impact was so loud Scarlet wondered if she had broken the man's neck. Either way, it was enough to incapacitate him. Slapshot went completely limp and fell to the ground, his bare chest landing right over the barbed end of his stick.

 

The crowd was beyond wild. Even Scarlet stood up and cheered as Cait gave him one more whack on the head for good measure and raised her bat in triumph, grinning madly as the sweat poured from her face.

 

“Atta girl!” shouted Hancock, rising up and applauding along with her.

 

_“_ _Still undefeated, there she is, our winner, Cait!”_

 

The boxing bell rung a few times as she strutted around the arena, soaking up the adoration of the crowd and basking in her victory.

 

Maybe it was just the alcohol, but Scarlet was beaming. Here was someone who, by appearances, should have been buried in the dirt seconds after the bell. But she had managed to come out on top, run down but with hardly a scratch. It gave her hope, seeing a scrawny little woman take down a man who was built like a house. If Cait was capable of knocking him out in a one-on-one duel in a cage match, Scarlet could at least be capable of defending herself enough to escape a dangerous situation. And Hancock was right; if anyone could show her how to do it, it would have to be this plucky little Irish girl.


	13. Cait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual tension between Cait and Scarlet. Sorry if I'm sloppy or rushing through plot points - I'm just excited because I think I finally figured out where things are going.

__

“I told you to lay off that shit. You wanna get yourself killed?” a raspy voice echoed from behind the door. Scarlet recognized it as the announcer who had been introducing all the fights.

 

Hancock nudged open the door to Tommy's office, Scarlet just behind him. The matches were over for the evening, and despite her aversion to violence, she had actually enjoyed herself. Even though it was two in the morning, the place was still hopping, and the two of them had to push their way through swarms of patrons just to make it to the little door beside the stage.

 

“What's the matter, Tommy boy? I won the fight, didn't I?”

 

Tommy was sitting at his desk. He was a stately looking ghoul with a full head of slicked back brown hair. He wore a suit vest and a striped tie, and a smoldering cigar was resting on the lip of his ashtray.

 

Cait stood across from him, a brown bottle of unnamed liquor in her hand. She took a hearty swig and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, exhaling with satisfaction after swallowing it down. Her hair was still a mess, but all the sweat from her encounter had evaporated. One of her wrists was taped up, and her baseball bat was leaning against a dented filing cabinet in the corner.

 

“I'm not talkin' about the fight. I'm talkin about _you._ You keep downin' all that poison and your liver's gonna give out on you. Your eyes are startin' to turn yellow.”

 

Cait waved her hand through the smoky air, shrugging off the ghoul's criticism. “What I do in my free time is none o' your damn business,” she spat in her thick Irish brogue.

 

“As long as I got your contract, everything you do is my business,” growled Tommy.

 

Scarlet and Hancock had entered the room silently, and the pair in front of them was so wrapped up in their argument that they didn't see them come in. Not wanting to get too much information about their personal affairs, Hancock cleared his throat. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything,” he said casually.

 

Tommy turned his head to look at him, his chagrined frown flipping up into a wide smile. “Is that you, Hancock?”

 

“In the irradiated flesh,” he jibed.

 

Tommy got up from his chair, and the two ghouls met in the center of the room, shaking hands before pulling each other in for a hug. “How the fuck have you been?” The ghoul took Hancock by the shoulders and shook him a little before letting go. “You still playin' mayor for that piece of shit town?”

 

“Now now, don't be tossin' insults at my beloved Goodneighbor. Especially considering this pile of rubble you're so damn proud of.”

 

“You try keepin' this shit-hole together when raiders tear it apart every night,” Tommy grumbled with a good-natured wink. “They built this place for performing Shakespeare, not for hosting fights to the death on a daily basis.”

 

As the ghouls chatted, Scarlet hung back and studied Cait. The girl drank intermittently from her bottle and leaned against the desk, watching the men's conversation with mild interest. Scarlet figured they were roughly the same age, though with her tiny frame, Cait probably could have passed for much younger. She had fair skin much like her own, but it was much more heavily freckled and laced with old scars. Her face was as thin as the rest of her, almost gaunt, but her high cheekbones and wide, pretty mouth were appealing to say the least. Her nose was fine and pointed, and her smoldering green eyes sparkled under beautifully curved brows.

 

Scarlet honed in on the strip of skin just above her hips, between the bottom of her corset and the top of her pants. She was so skinny she was almost boyish, which she admitted was kind of sexy. Her breasts were small to match her body, but the tight top pushed them up and together, giving her the barest hint of cleavage.

 

Cait locked eyes with Scarlet. She had caught her staring. Taking a sip of liquor, she gave her a knowing smile and waved at her with her slender fingers.

 

Scarlet flushed and turned away quickly, embarrassed by her slack-jawed gaping at the young woman, and in no small part due to the fact that she found her startlingly attractive. _Now wonder John tried to hit on her,_ she mused. In fact, apart from their difference in size and shape, Scarlet thought she and Cait looked somewhat alike. It was almost flattering that Hancock had gone after her before.

 

“So what's with the broad?” Tommy asked, cocking his head toward the stiff-shouldered woman in the doorway.

 

“This is Wolf.” Hancock extended his arm, motioning her to come forward. “Wolf, meet Tommy Lonegan.”

 

Scarlet approached timidly, stretching over to the ghoul for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lonegan.”

 

“Where'd you get this one?” He spoke to Hancock, but his eyes were fixed on Scarlet. He took her hand and shook it once before letting go. “'Mr. Lonegan...'” he said, cracking a smile at her. “Aren't you polite?”

 

“Be nice, Tommy. She's a vault-dweller.”

 

“Is that so?” He rested his chin in his hand and gave her a pass with his eyes. “She doesn't look like much of a fighter.”

 

“I didn't bring her here to fight. Not exactly.”

 

“Don't tell me you came all this way just to watch the show,” Tommy said skeptically. “If you wanted to get your fill of violence, you could have just stayed at home.”

 

“I wanna see if we can work out some kind of a deal. Wolfie's a little new to the Commonwealth and wants someone who can show her some moves.”

 

“Oh?” his black eyes narrowed, urging the mayor to go on.

 

“You think Cait would be up for it?”

 

Cait had looked rather bored up until this point, but at the mention of her name she moseyed forward to join the conversation. “What's this then?” she asked, her eyes shifting between Hancock and Tommy.

 

Tommy ignored her and continued his conversation. “If you can catch her when she's half sober, then yeah, I guess so.”

 

“Hang on!” Cait interjected, thrusting herself in-between the two ghouls. “Don't I get a say in all this?”

 

“Keep your panties on,” Tommy said, regarding the small woman condescendingly. “I'm not agreeing to anything yet. What's she gotta teach her, exactly?” he asked, re-directing himself toward Hancock.

 

“Nothin' too hard. Just lookin' for some self-defense. You know, some moves she can use if she's ever caught in a fistfight.”

 

“What did you have in mind as far as compensation?”

 

“I'm sure we can work something out. What are you running short of around here?”

 

“Hey, wait a second...” Cait said lowly. She looked up at Hancock, her index finger sticking out at him from the neck of the bottle she was holding. “I remember you.”

 

“Uh, what's that?” Hancock asked nervously. If Scarlet didn't know any better, she'd say he sounded ashamed.

 

“Yeah, I do!” Her voice rose assuredly and her eyes widened with realization. “You were here, what, a year ago? Harassing me for days, tryin' ta get me in bed with you.” She glanced briefly at Scarlet, pointing an elbow in her direction. “I'm guessin' you got a thing for redheads?”

 

Before Hancock could say a word in his defense, she flashed a devilish smile and laughed out loud. “I told ya, I ain't inta ghouls. But...” Cait bit her bottom lip, casting a seductive gaze at Scarlet. “She's pretty easy on the eyes. If you wanna bring her in, you could probably convince me ta change my mind.”

 

Scarlet wanted to cover her crimson face, but settled for staring at her feet. Cait's penetrating stare made her feel an alarmingly new sensation. She'd never had another woman try to flirt with her, and though she had the occasional thought about being with a girl, most of it she relegated to late-night fantasies. She'd certainly never considered it in any serious way. But Cait's suggestive comment made a ball of heat form in her core, and she found herself somewhat aroused at the idea.

 

“Let's stick to business, shall we?” said Tommy, much to Hancock and Scarlet's mutual relief. “What's the time commitment gonna be?”

 

“That all depends on Wolfie's progress,” Hancock stated, shaking off his awkwardness. “We can crash here tonight, and Cait can start teachin' her tomorrow before you open for the evening.”

 

“Works for me.”

 

“Again,” Cait butted in, her tone ripe with indignation. “Do I get somethin' outta the deal? Or am I expected to beat up on this soft little vaultie for free?”

 

Scarlet cringed inwardly at the thought of being whacked upside the head with Cait's baseball bat. “You'll get a cut of whatever we work out,” Tommy said with finality. “But I'm not givin' you anything until you do the job, and do it _sober_.”

 

“Aye, whatever you say, Tommy.” She rolled her eyes and walked off, taking another swig from her bottle.

 

Tommy shook his head at her retreat. “Leave her attitude to me,” he said to the two of them. “We got rooms upstairs. We can hammer out the details tomorrow. Why don't you and uh, Wolf, go get some rest.”

 

Scarlet watched Cait out of the corner of her eye as the men wrapped up their conversation. She nursed her liquor and paced absently, her mind occupied elsewhere. Against her volition, Scarlet was transfixed by the way her bottom pulsed against her baggy pants with each step. She silently wished she could see her legs. They were probably just as skinny as the rest of her, stringy and sinewy with lean muscle...

 

She bit the inside of her lip and tried to squelch the bizarre images behind her eyes. It was probably just pent-up desire for John, and she made a mental priority to make sure she got it out of her system when they got to their room. Scarlet wanted to keep her mind clear of obstructions and give all of her attention to learning something useful. But like Hancock had said to her just that morning, it would be difficult to concentrate once Cait got her on the floor.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Do ya really have ta wear those?” Cait asked Scarlet, pointing to her face.

 

Per the fighter's instructions, she had foregone putting on her armor that morning. Her jacket, pistol, and pip-boy were draped over a table in the front row of the arena, and she felt a little exposed, standing under a hot spotlight in a thin tank top and tight jeans, with no weapon to make her feel secure.

 

“I need them to see,” Scarlet said hesitantly. She knew she wouldn't be of any use if she left them behind, but she was also worried about getting them damaged during a scuffle. A shattered lens would do more than put her in a bind; it would leave her terrifyingly vulnerable.

 

“Argh, alright, let me see what I can do.” Cait stomped off the stage and down to the empty cluster of tables on the floor. She approached Tommy, who was sitting next to Hancock. The two had taken care of business and were shooting the shit, laughing and smoking over a beer.

 

She said something unintelligible to Tommy, who excused himself and headed for his office. Cait made her way back to the cage where Scarlet stood, clutching her forearm sheepishly.

 

Tommy returned shortly with a pair of welding goggles. He tossed them to Cait, who in turn dangled them in front of Scarlet. “Here,” she said impatiently.

 

Scarlet fastened the goggles around her head. The lenses were warped and stained, and they pushed up against the frames of her glasses so that each time she blinked, her eyelashes swiped uncomfortably against them. But it was better than nothing, she surmised, at least as far as training was concerned.

 

“So I'm supposed ta teach you self defense.” Cait crossed her arms and stood several feet away, sizing up the woman in front of her. It all seemed like child's play to her, but with Tommy watching her, she tried to keep a professional attitude. “Is there anything specific you want ta know?”

 

“Well...” Scarlet began meekly. “I was in a fight a little while ago. This guy had my arm against my back. Felt like he was gonna break it if I moved.”

 

Cait nodded in understanding. “Arm lock, yeah? That's a tough one.” She swung her hands by her sides, stretching her shoulders and circling Scarlet like a vulture while she contemplated it. “Do it ta me,” she commanded, stopping in front of her and extending her arm.

 

Scarlet cautiously reached out and took her by the wrist. Then she imitated what the man at the Dugout Inn had done, bending Cait's elbow and pressing her wrist against her back.

 

The fighter strained to look over her shoulder. “So you got a coupla options. You still got one arm free,” she said, waving her right hand in the air. “If it's a man that's got ya, the easiest thing ta do is whack him in the nuts.” She balled her hand into a fist and motioned towards Scarlet's groin, stopping just short of hitting her.

 

“But if he's got both of your arms, or you're up against a wall, I'd probably step on his foot.” Cait raised her leg and set her heel against the toe of Scarlet's boot, imitating the movement. She absorbed the information being given as she held on, nodding vigorously as she spoke.

 

“But probably the best advice I can give ya, in any situation, is ta roll with it.” Cait pulled away and stood back, and Scarlet released her grip. “Try it again, and watch what I do.”

 

She reached out for Cait's forearm and twisted it behind her like before, wrenching her balled fist upwards and straining her shoulder. But Cait followed the motion of her own arm, turning along with it, and forcing Scarlet's arm away with the edge of her shoulder. She held her arms up above her head and took a few steps backward, smiling proudly. “Ya see?” she asked rhetorically. “The thing is, when one of these bastards have ya, they're expectin' ya ta resist, right?”

 

Scarlet nodded and made a soft “mhmm”, but quietly allowed her to continue.

 

“If ya roll with your punches, and ya go along with it when they got a hold of ya, you can use their own force ta come back at 'em.”

 

Scarlet nodded again, but Cait noted the look of confusion on her face. “Let me give ya an example...” she started, standing in front of her with her back turned. “Grab me 'round the neck like you want ta choke me.”

 

She wrapped her fingers around Cait's slender neck gently, trying almost too hard to avoid hurting her.

 

“You can grab me a little tighter than that. I'm not made of glass,” she chuckled.

 

Scarlet obeyed and strengthened her hold slightly. Cait bobbed her head side to side, testing the grip to her satisfaction. “Right then. So if he's behind ya, he's gonna be pullin' your head back, right? Just go with it...” She tilted her head back with the force of Scarlet's hold, her hair brushing against the end of her nose. “Head-butt the bastard in the face. Try to aim for the nose, even if ya have ta jump.” She bounced up on her feet a little. Scarlet wasn't a tall woman, but Cait was a dwarf by comparison. She couldn't have been an inch over five feet tall.

 

“Or...” she went on, resuming her original position. “Twist around ta face 'em.” Cait rotated in her grip until she was face-to-face with her. Her light feminine scent wafted into Scarlet's nose, and she could feel herself blushing as she met the fighter's bright green eyes. “It's a lot harder ta take you down when you're lookin' at 'em dead on.”

 

Scarlet pulled her hands from her neck and took a step backwards, drawing in a deep breath. It was exhilarating being that close to her, in more ways than one.

 

“Another one they like ta do is put ya in a headlock.” Suddenly, she hooked her arm around Scarlet's neck and forced her head downward. Her spine arched forward and she felt completely paralyzed, even though her arms were free.

 

Cait giggled a little as the woman in her grasp squirmed. Scarlet couldn't help but let out a little whimper from the shock of it. “Don't be such a baby,” she chided.

 

Scarlet pressed her lips together and tried to force any unintended sounds back down her throat. Feeling so helpless made her embarrassed, and she waited in forlorn silence for further instructions.

 

“Another thing ya wanna keep in mind; go for the legs.” She reached with her free hand and gestured for Scarlet to bring her arm over. Taking her by the wrist, she placed her palm just above her knee and pushed down, signaling for her to plant it there. “Especially when you're up against men. You'll find they don't pay much attention ta their lower half. But if they can't stand up, they can't hit ya, right?”

 

Scarlet wrapped her fingers around Cait's skinny thigh. A tingle traveled from her fingertips into her center, and she was suddenly bathed with inadvertent arousal.

 

Thankfully, the fighter didn't seem to notice and continued with her lesson. “All ya gotta do now is twist around. Use their leg as leverage, and they're on their ass.” Scarlet did her best to follow her instructions, but Cait wasn't happy with her form. “You're not doin' it right. Let me show ya.”

 

She released her head and pulled Scarlet's arm around her own neck, stooping down into the position she was in just moments ago. Cait reached over and placed her palm on Scarlet's thigh. She tried not to react at the warmth of her touch, the intimacy of her hand's location, though there was a fire roiling in her breast from the sensation.

 

She didn't have much time to dwell on it, though. Cait pulled against her thigh and stepped forward, throwing Scarlet off balance and landing her butt on the cold hard concrete of the arena floor.

 

Scarlet made a small “oomph” of surprise, but otherwise managed to suppress any other response.

 

“Like that.”

 

The Irish girl sauntered off, swinging her slender hips as she tied up her hair. Scarlet rolled to her feet and followed her with her eyes as she made her way just offstage, returning shortly and dragging a blue athletic mat behind her.

 

“Another thing I wanna show ya,” she said, flinging the mat into the center of the cage. “Stand right there.” She pointed to the edge of the mat, and Scarlet took up her position.

 

“Now, let's say you're comin' at me dead on.” Cait stood directly in front of her, and pulled at Scarlet's elbows to get her to reach out for her. “Grab me anywhere, it doesn't matter.” With some trepidation, Scarlet took hold of Cait's upper arms, trying as best she could not to convey the effect the girl's proximity had on her.

 

“Remember what I said, about rollin' with it?”

 

“Yeah...”

 

Without warning, Cait hooked her right leg behind Scarlet's left and leaned into her as if they were embracing. Her leg locked rigidly against Cait's, there was nothing she could do to prevent her back from falling flat against the mat behind her, along with her head. The impact hurt even with the padding, and if it hadn't been there, she was sure she would have gotten a concussion.

 

“Ha!” Cait shouted. She hopped up to Scarlet's neck and positioned her knees on either side, letting the weight of her upper body fall from the meeting of her hips into her windpipe. She grinned wide, enjoying the submissiveness of Scarlet's body beneath her.

 

“Whack...” she said softly, grazing her knuckles gently along the vault-dweller's cheek.

 

Scarlet couldn't move even if she wanted to. She stared up at Cait's body looming over her head, honing in on her chest, and catching a whiff of her sex, it being so close to her face. The combination created a surge of moisture that gushed from between her legs, and she reflexively bit her bottom lip. Being pinned underneath her was almost too much, but she relished it in spite of herself. There was no mistaking she was sexually attracted to this woman. As distressing as it was to come to terms with, it was nonetheless exciting. Part of her wished Cait would stay that way. She wanted to reach up to her chest, untie the lacings of her corset and free her breasts, tug at her nipples while she sucked at her clit...

 

Cait stood up and swung her leg over to the side, then offered Scarlet a hand up. She was still reeling from being pinned to the ground, and fought a hit of dizziness that threatened to send her back to the floor as she hoisted herself to her feet.

 

Scarlet tried to keep her composure while she watched Cait pace to the edge of the arena, cinching her messy ponytail and winking back at her. “You ready ta try it on me?” she said with a smile.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You think you can get your hands on one?” Hancock asked the ghoul next to him, keeping his eyes glued to the stage where Scarlet and Cait were scrimmaging. He had moved on from beer to something stronger, and put a tumbler of bourbon to his scorched lips.

 

“I don't know John...” said Tommy, sipping a drink of his own. He shook his head and puffed at his half-finished cigar. “You sure you wanna go through with it?”

 

“Lay off the father routine and just tell me, yes or no,” he said flatly, downing the rest of his liquor. He slammed the empty glass on the edge of the table, hoping the off-duty waitress would see it, and put a cigarette to his mouth.

 

“I can,” he said reticently following a generous puff of smoke. “But it's gonna cost ya. Big time.”

 

“I don't care,” Hancock replied tersely. “I'll pay whatever you want, just get it done.”

 

“Whatever I want, huh?” Tommy said with a sly chuckle. “Don't tempt me, now.”

 

“Just try not to make me go broke.” Hancock smiled and reached for his glass, which the waitress had promptly refilled. “And when you get your hands on it, send word along to Daisy in Goodneighbor. I don't wanna risk Wolfie findin' out.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” The two were silent for a few minutes as they pulled drags on their smokes, the only sound being Cait's bossy voice echoing against the theater's domed ceiling. But Tommy wasn't about to let it go so easily, and after an excruciating pause, he finally spoke up again. “You sure you don't want my advice?”

 

Hancock laughed sardonically into the rim of his glass. “No, but I got a feelin' you're gonna give it to me anyway.”

 

“I got a hundred and some odd years up on ya, kid,” said Tommy, slapping the back of his hand lightly against the mayor's arm. “I've been around the block a few times.”

 

“What do ya want, a medal? The old timer's award?”

 

“I'm just sayin', you'd be smart to listen to your elders. I'm a ghoul from back in the day.” Tommy's voice dropped into his chest, and their friendly banter all at once became much more earnest. “I've seen a lot of shit come and go. I've watched most of the people I knew and loved die. I'm just worried about ya. I know you're gonna do what you want regardless. I know you well enough to accept that. But I hope, for your sake, that you'll at least try to think ahead to... you know... the inevitable...”

 

“I have thought about it,” Hancock said resolutely. “And you're right. There's nothin' you can say that's gonna change my mind.”

 

The two briefly met eyes before Tommy turned away with a snort. “I figured. You're one stubborn ass ghoul.”

 

Hancock looked back at the stage and twisted the filter of his cigarette between his fingers. “You're not the first person to say so.”


	14. O.D.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, plot, angst, etc.

“I have to tell you something, John.”

 

Scarlet lay back on her pillow with her eyes closed while Hancock made his way down the center line of her body, leaving a trail of kisses.

 

“What's that, Sunshine?” He asked, pausing briefly before hunkering down in-between her thighs. He gently ran his tongue along her slit, tasting the combined fluids that had mingled in her opening just moments ago.

 

“Seriously, it's important.” Scarlet tugged at his head, beckoning him to come back to her face. Although she tried to sound grave, her coy smile gave her away, and Hancock couldn't suppress his soft laughter as he met her eyes.

 

She was trying to convey some kind of sincerity, but it was hard to accomplish when he had just finished pleasuring her. And as he settled his groin back inside her parted legs, she could feel his member swelling again already. She wouldn't have a lot of time to get her point across before he invaded her once more.

 

Scarlet had wrapped up her lessons with Cait that day with a few extra bruises, but a much more vivid grasp on self-defense. She was glad for the experience. She didn't ask Hancock how much the lesson had cost him, but she trusted him not to go overboard spending caps he didn't have. Although she had resolved to use her own money whenever she could, this situation seemed better left in his hands. He knew the Combat Zone's owner, after all.

 

But her lessons had done more than just enlighten her; Cait had awakened desires she wasn't even sure were real. As much as she tried to write it off, Scarlet had trouble keeping her mind on anything else. She stewed over it while she and Hancock watched the evening's set of cage matches. When it was the auburn-haired woman's turn to step into the ring, Scarlet could do nothing but imagine her sweat-soaked body naked, straddling her as she had done earlier.

 

Like the previous night, she attacked John the moment they were alone in their room. She kept her jeans on for as long as she could, trying to conceal the fact that she was already slick from her lewd fantasies. And she hoped that after being impaled by his massive cock that he would push any residual thoughts from her mind. But as she lay there in the afterglow, her pussy still twitching from her violent climax, she still couldn't forget about it. Her insides yearned for the unknown, and the image of Cait hovering over her prostrate body was something she couldn't shake.

 

And if she didn't tell someone about it, she was going to burst.

 

“I've been...” she began, avoiding Hancock's piercing stare. She wasn't sure how he would react, but it wasn't like she could confide in anyone else.

 

“What is it, Sunshine?” he asked gently, placing a hand against her cheek and drawing her eyes back to his.

 

“Please don't be mad,” she said, biting her bottom lip.

 

“Now you gotta tell me...” he grinned, burying his face into her neck and nipping at her flesh.

 

The feeling of his teeth on her skin was firing her up again, but her face tightened as she attempted to keep control of her faculties. “I... I've been having thoughts about someone else.”

 

“Anyone I know?” He continued kissing her neck and moved fluidly to the other side. She thought his calm tone was unusual in light of her confession.

 

“Yes, actually...” she said warily, slowly losing herself to the feeling of his rough lips against her throat.

 

“Well then,” he said with a growl. He pulled his face away and looked her dead in the eye before ramming his cock inside of her, burying himself to his balls. The suddenness of it elicited a yelp from Scarlet, though she was still well-lubricated from their previous activity. “Maybe I can fuck him out of your mind.”

 

She tried to keep her eyes open amidst his invasion, but was being pulled back into the undertow by the thickness of his member straining against her walls. “John...” she whispered as he latched onto her wrists.

 

“So is he a ghoul, or is he a smoothskin?” he asked, his breath cut short by the effort of his thrusts.

 

Scarlet's brow furrowed, even as she succumbed to her lust while he plundered her. He didn't sound genuinely upset. It almost seemed like he was using her admission to initiate some kind of role-play. It would have been endearing, had her feelings not made her so despondent.

 

“It's not a he,” she said, unable to contain the moan that trickled out of her mouth along with it.

 

“Oh?” Hancock slid out of her sheath to the tip and ran his fingers along her side, making her shudder. He nibbled on her lips before pulling back to look at her, smiling impishly as he did. “Let me guess. You got a crush on Cait.”

 

Scarlet didn't have to answer. The redness in her cheeks said it all, and Hancock hummed with satisfaction. “I didn't know you liked women,” he teased, slowly pushing his cock back into her wetness.

 

“I didn't know I did either,” she said bashfully, lacing her arms around his neck.

 

He put his lips to her ear, expiring a breathy laugh that was almost sinister. “That's so cute. Somebody's curious...” He latched onto her earlobe with his lips, sucking at it voraciously before releasing it and bathing it with his heated breath.

 

“Seriously, John...” she sighed, her head rolling back and forth, her chest heaving from her heightening arousal. “I can't stop thinking about her.”

 

He paused his thrusts once again, donning a more candid tone as he looked at her. “You're not fallin' for her, are you?”

 

“No, nothing like that,” she said quickly, leveling with his gaze. “I just...”

 

“You wanna _fuck_ her?” Hancock buried himself as far as he could, and Scarlet nearly screamed as she felt the head of his manhood slamming against her cervix.

 

“Yes...” she exhaled, tightening her grip around his neck. She tossed her head back and her eyes sealed shut, absorbing the amazing fullness of him within her core.

 

“What do you wanna do to her?” he said, low and dark into the curve of her neck. “Tell me.”

 

“I...” she began, her voice quivering with a combination of embarrassment and pleasure. “I want to grab her tits. Pull on her nipples.”

 

Hancock kept his face nestled beside hers as he reached a hand over to cup her breast, pinching her hardened nipple between his fingers. She arched her back in response, pressing her hips into his. “What else?” he whispered.

 

“I want to lick her. See what her skin tastes like.”

 

He pressed the flat of his tongue against her collar and dragged it up to her jaw. The wet trail he left behind hit the coldness of the air, giving her a slight chill.

 

“I want to kiss her. Feel her tongue in my mouth.”

 

Hancock covered her mouth with his and slipped his tongue inside in time with the movement of his hips, forcing the air from her lungs and into his. He swirled his tongue around hers for several moments before breaking away. Then, he ran his hand along the side of her face, beckoning her to open her eyes. “Anything else?”

 

“When she was on top of me...” she started, her sentence interrupted by the meeting of his hips with her ass. “... I wanted to eat her pussy. I wanted her to ride my face while I stuck my tongue inside her. Feel her coming on my mouth.”

 

He grabbed her around the waist with both arms and deftly rolled her over until she was on top of him without severing their connection. As she sat up to ride him, he grabbed her by the hips and pulled upward, settling her dripping pussy over his waiting mouth. He ran the tip of his tongue over her folds before pulling her down, coaxing her to rest all of her weight on his face while he laved at her womanhood.

 

Scarlet held onto the headboard for balance as he pleasured her and fucked her with his tongue, rubbing the hard ridge that was left of his nose into her throbbing clit. She gritted her teeth and moaned behind closed lips, making what little effort she could to avoid disturbing the people in the adjacent rooms.

 

He buried his face into her pussy hungrily, swallowing her trickle of fluids as if they were precious drops of water. The combination of breath, tongue, and skin rubbing against her made her desire mount quickly. Before she knew it, she was practically grinding against his face, bucking her hips and climbing each ascending layer until her release exploded from her center. Her walls tightened around his tongue and he moaned into her sweetness, latching his fingers around her thighs until his nails were almost slicing into her flesh.

 

Hancock milked her climax to the very last drop, not letting up until she was listlessly clinging to the headboard and gasping for air. Only then did he nudge her away, pushing her hips down so that he could get his own fill of oxygen.

 

Scarlet slid down his torso and collapsed against him. As her hips fell back into line with his, he penetrated her once again, slowly sliding in and out while he ran his hands along her back.

 

After a minute or so, Scarlet felt like she had recovered enough to sit back up. She smiled contentedly and perched upright, rolling his stiff cock around inside of her.

 

“If that's really what you wanna do,” Hancock said, admiring her naked form as she rode him, “Don't let me stop you.”

 

Scarlet looked perplexed, but she kept up the steady rhythm of her hips. “What do you mean?” she asked, pressing her hands against his scarred chest.

 

“You can fuck her if you want.” He spoke calmly and easily, more wrapped up in watching her gyrating on his lap than their conversation.

 

Scarlet made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and her eyes widened as she looked down at his face. “Are you serious?” she asked incredulously.

 

“You ain't been with a woman before, have you?”

 

She shook her head, re-focusing on moving up and down over his shaft.

 

“And you just wanna sleep with her, right?”

 

Scarlet nodded and shuddered as she sat down on his cock.

 

“Well what kind of man would I be if I didn't let my girl have everything she wanted?” He smiled broadly up at her, reaching for her shoulder and letting gravity rake his hand down her breast and stomach.

 

“Are you sure?” Scarlet thought it was strange that he was so casually giving her permission to sleep with someone else, regardless of the fact that it was a woman. Even though a large part of her was too timid to ever actually go through with it, she couldn't ignore Cait's suggestive comments and seductive glances. If the opportunity arose, it would be a challenge to resist the temptation.

 

“Yeah,” he said with a groan. The pressure in his loins was building, compounded by the thought of Scarlet and Cait in bed together. He had a vast array of sexual proclivities, and as long as Scarlet wasn't developing some kind of emotional attachment, he didn't see the harm in letting her engage in some non-monogamous activity. It was an arousing notion, after all.

 

And he felt kind of guilty having snatched her up out of the vault so quickly. She was still very much a novice when it came to sex, and he felt bad for tying her down before she could enjoy the freedom to experiment. As long as he could ensure that things were more or less under his control, she was at liberty to explore her desires as far as he was concerned.

 

“You're so sweet,” she said, somewhat tongue-in-cheek. She leaned forward to give him a grateful kiss on the lips before resuming her motion.

 

“Anything for you, Sunshine,” he grinned. He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her downward, making her pussy twitch around him. “Just promise me one thing.”

 

“What's that?” Scarlet leaned back with her hands against the mattress. His rigid member strained against her pelvis, and he could just see the outline of it bulging below her naval.

 

“You'll at least think about askin' me to join. Or lettin' me watch.” He lowered his hands to her hips and rocked her back and forth, grinding her clit against him and pulsing his cock against her sweet spot.

 

Her only response was a heady moan as she rested her weight on her hands, nearly on the crest of another climax.

 

“Is that a yes?” he said low in his throat, his own release ready to burst at any moment.

 

“Yes!” she shouted.

 

It wasn't clear if she was actually answering him or if she was just lost in the throes of pleasure. But either way, it was good enough for him. They came together, riding parallel waves of revelry, until every muscle in their bodies had given out. Once they had completely descended, they made their way under the covers, their limbs entwined as they fell into a contented sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

 

A guttural wail ripped through the pitch-black hallway, breaking the silence of the early morning. Scarlet and Hancock woke with a start at the sound. She fumbled for her glasses as he turned on the lamp, and they shared a questioning look while they sat up in bed.

 

A fluorescent glow appeared beneath the crack of their door, and the light thud of bare feet cascaded down the hall outside.

 

Hancock immediately threw back the covers and darted out of bed, pulling on his clothes. Scarlet was confused, but did her best to follow suit and grabbed her jeans, stumbling back to the bed as she hastily pulled them on.

 

 _“_ _Fuck, no, Cait!”_ Tommy's distant voice pierced the stillness, and the way he said it made a shiver run down Scarlet's back.

 

Hancock didn't bother with his shirt or his shoes, pulling on his coat and grabbing his shotgun from the dresser. Scarlet had just enough time to pull on her tank top before tumbling after him out the door.

 

_“_ _Somebody help!”_

 

The two raced down the hall toward the sound of Tommy's voice. Most of the doors they passed were wide open with half-dressed people hovering in their frames, mumbling and looking on with bewildered stares.

 

Hancock sprinted forward, shotgun in hand, until he caught sight of Tommy's shirtless back crouching in a dimly-lit room. Scarlet careened in after him, and her hand darted to her mouth as she began to process what she saw.

 

Cait was lying in bed on her side, shaking and ghostly white, and clutching at her chest. She appeared catatonic and unable to speak or move, and Tommy placed a helpless hand on her shoulder.

 

“She's fuckin' overdosed,” the ghoul said, giving the two of them a quick glance before turning back to Cait. “God damn it!” he growled through clenched teeth, tremors of fear cutting through the anger in his voice.

 

Scarlet looked expectantly at Hancock. It was probably something he had seen before, something he knew how to handle. But he looked paralyzed where he was, unsure of how to proceed. Yeah, he'd seen overdoses in his life, but he was no doctor. And he was usually too high himself to do anything about it when it was happening. The few times he had been unfortunate enough to be around, he couldn't remember anything except waking up to a corpse the next day.

 

 _Is there really no one who_ _can help_ _?_ The bleakness of her reality settled in around her once again. This was the world after the bombs. She couldn't pick up the phone and call an ambulance. She couldn't summon an emergency medical protectron to stabilize the dying woman. And the people around her, as scrappy and knowledgeable as they may be about survival, hadn't had a formal education. With the exception of Tommy, there was almost zero chance of them even having the opportunity of medical training. Apart from binding up wounds and prepping stimpacks, they probably didn't have much of a need for it. Doctors were hard to come by, and folks were used to making do without them when they could.

 

Realizing that neither of these men were going to act, she felt the strange compulsion to take charge of the situation. She wasn't a medical expert by any means, but she had learned enough practical knowledge from her father to feel empowered to do the bare minimum.

 

She stepped forward and knelt at Cait's side. Tommy stood up and backed away, watching as the vault-dweller put two fingers against the girl's neck.

 

“What did she take?” asked Scarlet, running her eyes over the floor in a search for whatever chem had caused the reaction.

 

“Psycho,” said Tommy.

 

“Shit...” Hancock muttered.

 

Cait's pulse was wild and erratic. Scarlet peeled open one of her closed eyelids and noted her pupils, which were dilated so wide that only a scant rim of her green irises remained. Her skin was cold and clammy to the touch. And by the way she was holding her hand over her left breast, Scarlet was almost positive that she was having a heart attack.

 

“What can we do?” asked Tommy. Scarlet looked at him, then Hancock, and then noticed the silent crowd that had gathered in the hallway outside the door.

 

She could barely connect her thoughts together well enough to come up with a plan. But she knew as she stared at Cait's shaking body that if she did nothing, the woman would probably die. Scarlet let out a sharp breath through her nose, dipping her head resolutely.

 

“I need a stimpack,” she began calmly, shifting her eyes between the two of them. “Some purified water, and some aspirin... a clean bowl and a spoon. And some addictol, if you have it.”

 

The two ghouls almost knocked each other over as they headed out the door, pushing urgently past the bystanders in their way.

 

Scarlet grabbed Cait's hand and swiped the hair from her face. She tried to steady her nerves, but was terrified at that thought that whether or not her idea worked would likely decide her fate. Her medical skills were rudimentary at best, but they would have to do.

 

A few agonizing moments later the men returned with the items she had asked for. “Hand me the stimpack,” she said coolly, and began prepping the needle. “John, take four aspirin and crush them up in that bowl as fine as you can.”

 

John went to work crushing the pills into a fine powder while Scarlet sought out the site of Cait's pulse on her neck. It was even more faint than before, and it seemed like the beats were getting farther apart from one another. She pinpointed the location of her carotid artery as best she could before sliding the needle of the stimpack in and pressing down on the plunger.

 

There wasn't much of an immediate effect, though Cait did appear to stop shaking quite as much.

 

“Tommy, you got that addictol?” she asked.

 

“Right here,” he said from behind her, holding up the inhaler.

 

“I know her breathing is off, but hold it to her mouth and plug her nose. Do the best you can to time the release for when she inhales.”

 

Scarlet moved aside enough for Tommy to take a position next to Cait's head, and he wordlessly obeyed her instructions with trembling hands.

 

“You done with that aspirin, John?”

 

“Just about.”

 

Scarlet looked around for the purified water she had requested. Finding it on the nightstand, she grabbed it up and popped the tab, then motioned for Hancock to lean down next to her.

 

As he worked the pills against the side of the bowl with the back of the spoon, Scarlet began pouring a drizzle of water into the powder. “That's good enough,” she said. “Stir it up while I pour this in.”

 

Drop by drop, she carefully added water until there was just enough of it in the bowl to dissolve the majority of the aspirin. Then she grabbed the empty stimpack and stuck the needle into the mixture and pulled back on the plunger as slowly as she could, taking care to draw as much of it as it would hold.

 

She held the syringe up to the light and flicked the side, popping any lingering bubbles. Then she squeezed the plunger until a stream of liquid erupted from the needle, and inspected the vial closely to ensure that every bit of air had been expelled.

 

Tommy had used up the canister of addictol and sat back from the bed. Scarlet silently hoped that some of it had made its way into her lungs as she lined up the syringe next to the hole she had punctured previously. Without hesitation, she emptied the cloudy contents of the vial into her bloodstream.

 

Scarlet sat back on her heels, casting the used stimpack to the side. She had done all that she could with her limited ability. For now, they would have to resign themselves to waiting for a change in Cait's condition. Each second stretched into an eternity as she pressed her fingers gently against Cait's neck. She monitored her pulse, anxiously feeling for her irregular heartbeat to even itself back out.

 

After several tense minutes, Cait's muscles began to visibly relax. Her hand eased away from her chest and she flipped over to her back, resting her arm at her side. Her eyes rolled a back and forth behind her lids, and a little bit of pink had tinged her freckled cheeks. Miraculously, her heartbeat had almost returned to its normal rhythm, and was strong and steady underneath Scarlet's fingertips.

 

“I think she's gonna be okay,” Scarlet said cautiously, withdrawing her hand.

 

Tommy slumped back against the wall, a flood of tears cascading from his black eyes down the rotting flesh of his face. He held his head in his palm and sobbed openly, saying prayers of gratitude under his breath.

 

Hancock placed a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to look into his eyes. “You did good, Sunshine,” he said soothingly. Scarlet lowered her head amenably and put her hand on his. Her intervention might not have done anything. Cait might have come out on the other end alive regardless. But as Tommy muttered his thanks and Hancock beamed proudly at her, she hoped she could accept the credit for saving the young woman's life. They all seemed to think that she had, and she felt compelled to live up to their expectations.

 

Hancock stood up and turned around to address the people in the hallway who were still gawking. “Show's over,” he grunted, taking hold of his shotgun. “Go back to bed.”

 

They quietly dispersed, whispering to each other as they made their way back to their rooms. “You want me to stay with her?” Hancock asked.

 

Scarlet shook her head. “I think she's stable,” she said, pulling a blanket over Cait's limp body. “I'll stay here for ten more minutes and monitor her pulse, but I think the worst of it is over. All she can do now is rest.”

 

Hancock reached a hand down to Tommy, who was crouched and blubbering in the corner. “C'mon, Tommy boy.” The ghoul reached up, and Hancock caught his hand in a shaky grasp before pulling him off the floor. “Let's go get a drink, alright?”

 

“Yeah...” he said, wiping his eyes against his arm. “That sounds good.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

The theater was eerily silent when Scarlet joined them at the empty bar. Hancock stood behind the counter and poured them each a drink, offering what words of comfort he could to the grief-stricken ghoul sitting across from him.

 

“That's it,” Tommy said as Scarlet sat down beside him. He raised his head from the crook of his arm and swallowed his drink. “I'm done. I can't take it anymore.”

 

“Don't say shit like that,” said Hancock, refilling his glass.

 

“I mean it. This is the last time I'm gonna worry myself to death over that god damned junkie.”

 

“You gonna try to get her to go clean?” Hancock offered, trying to read the meaning of his words.

 

“No,” he said darkly. “She ain't never gonna go clean. I've tried. In less than a week, she'll be back at it, harder than ever. Happens every time.”

 

“Is this the first time she's overdosed?” asked Scarlet.

 

“I've found her passed out drunk in a pool of her own vomit. I've seen her take so much psycho she broke her hand trying to punch a hole in a wall. But I ain't never seen her like this. Not this bad. Not this close to the end.”

 

Scarlet hung her head and stared absently at a scratch in the counter top. She didn't know much about addiction, but she knew that Cait was reaching rock bottom. The next time she overdosed would likely be her last, no matter what she or anyone else tried to do about it. And no one could stop her from using; only she could make that choice, and it was out of their hands.

 

“I shoulda never taken her fucking contract,” Tommy said, slamming his fist against the bar in frustration.

 

Scarlet jumped at the sound of the impact, then took a deep breath. “What does that mean, anyway, that you have her contract? Are you like her legal guardian?”

 

“Somethin' like that.” Hancock offered Tommy a cigarette, which he accepted before continuing. “The fact that I got her contract means she's gotta fight for me. But in exchange, I gotta provide her food, shelter, things like that. Basically, keep her alive.” Hancock flipped open a lighter and Tommy leaned forward, igniting his smoke. “But as you can see, keeping that woman alive ain't all that simple.”

 

“What're you gonna do then? Pass her contract off to someone else?” Hancock asked, lighting up a cigarette of his own.

 

“I've tried it before,” Tommy said morosely. “Nobody wants her. She might be a killer in the ring, but she's a nightmare to deal with outside of it.”

 

“So now what, you just throw her out on the street?” Hancock said, his voice rising with accusation. “She's an addict, Tommy. She needs help.”

 

“You think it's easy, dealin' with that shit day after god damn day? You think I haven't tried to help her? I'm tired, Johnny. And I can't take that woman's death on my conscience. If she wants to kill herself with chems, it's gonna be on her head, not mine!”

 

The ghoul nearly raised out of his chair, fuming and gesturing wildly as he spoke. A pregnant silence drifted over them while he puffed on his cigarette and rubbed a tired hand across his face. Neither of them knew what to say to him, and they quietly sipped their drinks, awkwardly waiting for him to speak.

 

“Tell ya what Johnny,” he finally uttered. “If you care so damn much, why don't you take her contract?”

 

Scarlet gave the man a quizzical look, and Hancock knitted his brows. “Me, take her contract?”

 

“Yeah, you. Unless you got a better idea.”

 

“I'd love to help, really. But I don't have the time to take on every charity case that comes my way.”

 

“Well unless I can find someone else to take her by the time she wakes up tomorrow, I'm burnin' that fuckin' piece of paper and letting her out into the Commonwealth to fend for herself.”

 

Scarlet looked from Tommy to Hancock, her eyes wide and pleading. She may not have known much about Cait, but from what she could glean, the woman had a troubled past. She wasn't a bad person, just someone who had made a lot of bad choices. And as long as she was alive, no matter what she was going through, Scarlet felt that she was worth trying to save.

 

She didn't blame Tommy for wanting to get rid of her. It was undoubtedly more than she had ever dealt with in her limited experience. But if nothing else, Hancock taking her contract would mean she'd have a safe place to go. Goodneighbor wasn't exactly the best refuge for a recovering addict, but at least she could sleep at night without worrying about being set upon by super mutants.

 

Hancock noted the supplicating expression on her face. The do-gooder in him really did want to help Cait. But she would end up being an unhealthy distraction from Scarlet's quest to find her son, whether or not curing her addiction was ultimately a lost cause. And although he liked helping people who were down, the whole contract business was a little too permanent for his liking. His support would be indefinite, and even if he decided to shred her contract, she seemed like the kind of person who would be challenging to get rid of.

 

But damned if the plaintive look in Scarlet's eye didn't melt his heart. He almost wanted to kick himself for falling so hard for this woman. With a single glance, she eroded his will into dust, and he found it borderline impossible to say no to her, no matter how crazy or far-fetched her request. And on top of all that, if he said no, he would have to suffer her disappointment in him, something he dreaded more than taking a bullet to the chest.

 

“Alright,” he said, sighing with resignation. “I'll take her fuckin' contract.” He raised an incriminating finger at Tommy. “But you owe me big time.”

 

Scarlet smiled proudly at Hancock. She could tell he didn't want the responsibility. Scarlet didn't really want it, either. But there was no way she could have slept at night knowing that Cait was fending for herself in the ruins of Boston. And even if Hancock tried to deny it, and say he did it just to make her happy, she knew he would have done the right thing in the end. He was honorable that way, and she loved him all the more for it.


	15. The Original Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More stupid dumb plot. Booo! Where's the smut?

Cait complained about absolutely everything on their way back to Goodneighbor. She complained about the heat. She complained about the sun, the dust, the wind. She whined endlessly about having to walk so far. And on top of it, she kept pestering Hancock for a drink.

 

Scarlet patted the mayor reassuringly on the arm as he rolled his eyes. It wasn't Cait's decision to be cavorting around the wasteland. The spunky little woman threw a fit when Tommy handed her contract over to Hancock, but he reminded her that she didn't have a choice in the matter. It was either go with him, or try to make it on your own. And as tough as she was on the outside, Scarlet could see right through to the shaking little girl in the inside. She might have been able to survive on her own, even build a successful solo career utilizing her combat prowess. But Cait was far too insecure to go it alone, and too blinded by her addiction to actualize any personal goals.

 

Hancock had given her an ultimatum before they set off; no more chems. Cait was unable to recall what had happened the night before, but judging by the way she felt when she woke up, she was aware, albeit in denial, about the gravity of her addiction. Had it not been for Scarlet, she probably wouldn't have woken up at all. She had tried to go clean before multiple times, and every time she had failed. But maybe this change in her life was what she needed to make it stick once and for all.

 

Even so, she wasn't happy about any of it, and she made no secret of showing her displeasure any chance she could. And she reminded Hancock that their agreement had been 'no chems,' not 'no booze,' and she cajoled him into giving her a bottle of wine from his pack.

 

“Don't look at me like that,” he told Scarlet, who crinkled her nose at him in disapproval when he gave Cait the bottle. “Let her have a drink. She's already had to give up chems.”

 

“The way she drinks, it's probably just as bad as psycho,” she whispered, looking back to make sure Cait was out of earshot.

 

“The liquor might kill her eventually, but the psycho will definitely kill her now,” he said with an air of authority. “With an addict, sometimes you gotta go with the lesser of two evils. One step at a time, you know?”

 

“Fine,” she huffed, lacing her arm into the bend of his elbow.

 

They walked in silence for a little while, Cait mumbling incoherently behind them while she gulped her wine. Hancock looked back at her with a cheeky smile, which immediately set her off. “What the fuck you lookin' at, ya ugly bastard?” she yelled.

 

Scarlet ground her teeth and started to turn around, but Hancock caught her arm and tugged her along beside him. “Let her have that one, Sunshine,” he said with a sigh. “She's had a rough day.”

 

“It's about to get rougher if she doesn't watch her mouth...” she grumbled.

 

Hancock chuckled lightly at her defensiveness. For someone who claimed to be scared of confrontation, Scarlet wasn't one to shy away where he was concerned. It made his heart beat a little faster when she wanted to stand up for him. It was something none of his lovers had ever bothered to do, even before he went ghoul. Every day he was reminded in some way of just how lucky he was to have her, how fortunate he was that their paths had crossed, and that by some miracle, she loved him just as much as he loved her.

 

“So, you still wanna fuck her?”

 

“John!” She poked her elbow into his side and took a quick look behind her, making sure that Cait hadn't overheard him.

 

“Hate sex can be a lot of fun too, ya know.”

 

“Shut up!” she snapped at him in a hushed voice. But she smiled in spite of herself, and the idea of pushing Cait's naked body up against a wall left her tingling all the way back to Goodneighbor.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Nicky? What the hell are you doing here?”

 

The synth snubbed his cigarette and stood up from the couch, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Sorry for droppin' in on you like this. But we have a bit of a problem.”

 

Cait had shut herself up in her room as soon as they got to the State House. Hancock gave her the lodgings that Scarlet had previously occupied, and she harassed him into giving her a pint-sized bottle of bourbon from his pack before she went in.

 

When the two of them entered the parlor, they were equally shocked to see the Detective waiting for them. He had mentioned that he would send a message with a caravan when he had a lead, but never said anything about returning to Goodneighbor. And by the way his silvery lips were set sternly against his face, the reason for his appearance couldn't be good.

 

“What's going on?” asked Scarlet, taking off her hat and frowning with concern.

 

“Why don't you come over here and sit down. I'll fill you in.” Nick sparked up a cigarette before settling back on the couch. Scarlet took a seat across from him, and Hancock stood behind her, leaning his forearms against the top.

 

“So you remember I told you about Kellogg, a possible suspect involved in the kidnapping of your boy.” Scarlet bobbed her head up and down in affirmation as he went on. “When I first got back to Diamond City, I went to my office and went over my previous case files, did a little research. When he was staying in town, he had a ten-year-old boy with him. Not an infant, mind you,” he added, noting Scarlet's growing excitement. “But still, pretty strange for a mercenary to be taking care of a little kid like that.

 

“Kellogg left town some months back and took the boy with him. And as far as I knew, his house was sitting empty all that time. So the next day, I went up to the mayor's office to ask him for the key to the man's house. He said he couldn't do that, said he had a duty to protect the man's private property even after he split. I told him that I needed in there to investigate a missing person's case, but he wouldn't budge. At the time I thought it was a little odd. McDonough never interfered with my investigations before. But he was cagey just at the mention of the name 'Kellogg.' I even asked his secretary, Geneva, to try to sweet talk him into it. But I knew I wasn't getting in there. Not legally, anyway.

 

“That night I enlisted the help of our mutual friend, a Ms. Piper Wright, to help me pick the lock on his door. She didn't wanna do it at first, but when I mentioned your name,” he pointed at Scarlet, “she jumped at the opportunity.”

 

“That was... really nice of her,” she said softly, more to herself than anyone else in the room. She didn't know what good deed she had done to earn the reporter's respect, but she would have to make a point of thanking her next time she was in Diamond City.

 

Nick took a drag of his cigarette, then tapped it against the ashtray. “She took off after she let me inside. She was probably curious, but I didn't want to risk her getting caught while I snooped around. I knew the more time I spent in his house, the more likely someone would catch me, too. So I brought my camera with me. Took a bunch of snapshots of the place. Opened all the drawers and cabinets, got in as many angles as I could, so I could study the pictures in my office at my own pace. Really get all the details.

 

“I must've looked at those pictures for days before I saw the little red button under his desk, and the boards on his wall that were just barely off kilter. Piper wasn't too happy about having to break in there again, but it paid off. There was a secret room in there, full of ammo, chems, booze, everything a merc needed to feel at home. I noticed there was a particular kind of beer he liked, too. 'Gwinett Stout,' and a special kind of cigar I had never seen before.

 

“It wasn't much to go on, but I started getting wind of the trail he left behind. I talked to merchants, traders, scavvers, you name it. I looked for clues around the city, then spread my search out into the whole of Downtown Boston. I don't need to sleep, so I could hunt day and night. Eventually, I ran across a subway tunnel out west that he used as one of his hideouts. It had to have been Kellogg's. Place was littered with his special cigars and his favorite beer bottles.

 

“And right after that's about the time things went sour.” Nick finished off his cigarette and promptly lit another one, pausing to suck the smoke into his mechanical lungs.

 

Scarlet was on pins and needles waiting for him to continue. She held tight to the edge of the couch cushion beneath her, and Hancock rubbed his hand over her upper back.

 

“I kept heading west. I knew I was close. But someone else knew I was close, too. I was jumped by three Gunners right around the old trailer park out there. It was one hell of a firefight, but I held out long enough to run them out of ammo, and I took 'em all down.

 

“I was searching their pockets, looking for answers when I saw something metallic poking out of the side of one of their heads where my bullet went through. I didn't even have to pick it up. I knew right away when I saw it, it was a cybernetic component. I shot the other two in the head in roughly the same spot, and wouldn't you know it, they had cybernetic components, too.” He captured Scarlet's eyes with his glowing yellow stare in a way that made her skin prickle with goosebumps. “They weren't Gunners. They were synths. Gen 3's, created by the Institute, sent to kill me because I knew too much.”

 

Scarlet looked down at her feet, a surge of tears welling up behind her eyes. “So the Institute _did_ take Shaun,” she said, her voice cracking.

 

“Did you find Kellogg?” Hancock asked urgently.

 

“I knew if I kept going, there would just be more of them waiting for me. I wasn't equipped to take on a synth army by myself, so I got the hell out of there as fast as I could. I headed straight here, walking non-stop across the Commonwealth until I landed on your doorstep.”

 

“Why did you come here instead of going back to Diamond City?” she asked, wiping her running nose on her sleeve.

 

“Yeah. I'm not real thrilled about the trouble that might have tailed you here,” said Hancock, narrowing his eyes and standing up straight.

 

“That's the thing...” Nick removed a scrap of ruled green paper from his breast pocket. “I found this on one of 'em. It's a list of landmarks and locations I had been visiting. Couldn't get anything from the handwriting. The paper though...” He held it up in front of his face and gave it a thwack with the back of his hand. “In the whole of the Commonwealth, there's only two places I've ever seen using the green legal pads this came from. One is at my agency. The other...” he paused for emphasis, “Is the mayor's office in Diamond City.”

 

Scarlet looked up at Hancock. He was still glaring reticently at the synth, not being totally convinced of his conclusion. “What are you trying to say?”

 

“I'm syin',” he said, throwing the paper on the coffee table, “Those synths who tried to kill me, snuff out the nosy detective that was one step away from finding the Institute's errand boy, Kellogg, got their final orders from Mayor McDonough.”

 

Scarlet blinked her eyes several times in disbelief. The shock of his revelation staved off further tears as she attempted to process Valentine's theory.

 

“You don't think there's a slim chance that someone else out there might also have that same kinda stupid paper?” Hancock said gruffly.

 

“Pardon the pun, but green legal pads ain't exactly growing on trees nowadays.”

 

Scarlet put her fingers to her lips, covering up a small giggle. He didn't know why, but something about her laughter just then made the ghoul's blood run hotter beneath his skin.

 

“Maybe someone stole the paper outta your office,” Hancock said derisively. “Maybe it was Ellie.”

 

“Either way, all roads lead to Diamond City,” he said with a weighty air of certitude. “And the Mayor's behavior when I asked to search Kellogg's house was more than a little suspicious. It can't all just be a coincidence. And it's also why I can't go back. Whoever gave the order would be there waiting for me.”

 

“So, do you think Piper's right then, about McDonough being a synth?” Scarlet queried earnestly.

 

“Maybe a synth. Maybe just an informant. But being attacked by a squad of Gen 3's is enough to connect him directly to the Institute.”

 

Hancock paced behind the couch, breathing sharply through the holes where his nostrils used to be. Scarlet could tell he was bothered by Nick's conclusion. But it made a lot of sense, at least to her. At any rate, it was a possibility she couldn't overlook. “What's our next move?” she asked matter-of-factly.

 

“We go to the source,” he said. “Go to the mayor's office in Diamond City. It might be too dangerous for me to go back, but he doesn't have anything linking my search for Kellogg to you personally. You should still be able to get close enough without attracting too much attention.”

 

“What should we look for?”

 

“He's gotta have information about Kellogg's whereabouts somewhere. It's probably locked up somehow. Maybe you could ask Piper to help you out with any locks you need picking. His private terminal would absolutely have something on it, but I don't suppose you know anything about hacking.”

 

Scarlet smiled knowingly at him. “That's actually the one thing I know how to do,” she boasted.

 

“That's a relief. I was worried you were gonna have to smuggle it out of town so I could break into it for you.”

 

“I got a bad feeling about this...” muttered Hancock as he sauntered over to his liquor cabinet. He removed a red bottle and pulled the cork out with his teeth, then spat it on the floor before taking a drink.

 

“Listen John...” he said somberly, attempting to convey his empathy. “I know he's your brother. And I know you don't wanna believe that he's got anything to do with all this. But if I'm right... and I probably am... the sooner you decide to accept it, the easier it's gonna be when you have to face him.”

 

Scarlet looked at her hands, avoiding the anger in Hancock's face. She felt profoundly guilty about the way everything had fallen together, as if she was responsible for obliterating any chance of John ever being able to make amends with his brother. Rationally, she knew it wasn't the case, but it bothered her just the same.

 

“It's too late to head out today,” said Hancock curtly, following a strained silence.

 

“That's fine,” said Nick. “In fact, if you're willing to wait another day, I'd like to at least go with you, even if I can't go into the city. I need to see Dr. Amari tomorrow. A couple of my circuits got fried during my confrontation with those mercs. Havin' trouble feeling the left side of my body.” He grinned wryly at Scarlet, who in turn gave him a small smile of her own.

 

“That's fine with me,” she said affably. “I'd be grateful for your help.”

 

John let out a relinquishing sigh. This whole mess had escalated to a new level with his brother being connected to the Institute. Before now, he had held out some hope of getting back on speaking terms with his brother someday. Maybe even become friends. But his nightmares had been realized, and they were poising themselves to strike, readying to face him in the naked light of day.

 

“Let's go down to the Rail,” he grumbled. “I'm gonna need to unwind.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Scarlet laughed and twirled her finger in her drink as she watched Hancock scolding Cait at the other end of the bar. The girl didn't want to leave her room initially, but the mayor thought it would be irresponsible to leave her alone with drawers full of chems just outside her door. As soon as he mentioned they were going to a bar, however, she practically tripped over her own feet as she barreled out to meet them.

 

Hancock made it a point to tell her that she would have a drink limit, and he warned Charlie in advance not to over-serve her. But she had flirted her way into getting a few extra drinks on the side, and he jumped all over her for trying to go behind his back, and they had gotten into a fervent yet comical argument.

 

She took a small sip of bourbon before fumbling for a cigarette. Her nerves were in a nauseating jumble now that the detective had returned with a solid lead on Shaun, and she found it difficult to stomach her usual number of drinks. But she was in a good mood, and was constantly fascinated by the synthetic human who sat at the bar next to her, lighting smoke after smoke.

 

“This song takes me back,” he said fondly, staring at Magnolia. She was wearing her characteristic red sequined dress that lit up the stage, and smiled into the microphone as she sang.

 

“You're technically pre-war too, aren't you?” she asked.

 

“Yeah. I, or the original Nick Valentine, was a pre-war cop. He volunteered to have his brain scanned as part of a, uh, medical treatment at C.I.T. The Institute had access to all that information after the bombs fell, which is how they were able to upload Nick's memories into my neural net.”

 

“Huh. I went to school at C.I.T.”

 

“Really? What'd you study?”

 

“Robotics,” she said with a smile. “Just got my Masters before the war. Would have gone onto get my doctorate if I hadn't gotten pregnant.”

 

“Interesting...” he said, arching a brow. “I'm surprised the Institute didn't recruit you for themselves.”

 

“My husband refused to let me get a job, so I probably stayed under their radar.”

 

“Your husband sure sounds like he was a swell guy,” he said sarcastically.

 

“Yeah, he was pretty great,” Scarlet answered in kind. “I think the first thing I did when I got out of the vault was sell my wedding ring.”

 

Valentine chuckled. “So what kinda job would you have gotten if you could?”

 

“Actually,” she said timidly, “I would have liked to work on something like you. I mean, not the way the Institute does it,” she added quickly. “Just developing sophisticated AI, machines capable of making their own decisions, creating their own memories, having wants and needs.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess what I really wanted to do was figure out the mechanics behind consciousness. Figure out exactly what it is that makes a human brain human.”

 

“That's pretty deep,” he said softly, exhaling a cloud of smoke that swirled around his head. “Do you think synthetic humans out to have basic human rights?”

 

Scarlet's forehead creased as she considered her response. In her years in academia, she studied engineering, biophysics, advanced systems, programming, calculus, history, English, Japanese, and even learned to play the piano as one of her electives. But she had never been required to take a class discussing the ethical implications of her chosen path. And now, as she stared this fully functioning mechanical humanoid next to her, she realized that she should have been.

 

“Honestly, I haven't given it much thought,” she admitted. “My initial response would be yes, inasmuch as synthetic humans are modeled after biological humans, they should have the same set of rights and privileges.”

 

“You don't have to say that just cause you're talkin' to one,” he offered sincerely. “I wanna know what you think.”

 

“That's about as much as I've ever examined my stance on it,” she said humbly. She shuddered a little as she sipped her liquor. “Jesus, that one's gonna keep me up tonight.”

 

“Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your sleep,” he said with a grin.

 

“It's okay. I sleep too much as it is.” They took a few moments to applaud Magnolia, who was stepping down from the first half of her set. “Hey Nick, I wanted to ask you something. I mean, would it be impolite if I... you know, I'm curious about...”

 

“I gotchya,” he interrupted over her nervous rambling. “You don't gotta be embarrassed, doll. I get that one a lot.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You wanna know what kind of equipment I've got, right?”

 

Scarlet nearly fell out of her seat with the force of her laughter. Nick watched her with bemusement as she clutched her stomach and leaned her forehead against the bar, her shoulders shaking with each peel. It was so raucous that she gathered a few odd looks from the nearby patrons.

 

“What, is that not it?” he asked, genuinely confused and somewhat frustrated by her response.

 

“No!” Scarlet belted out. She sat up straight as her laughter died off, taking off her glasses in order to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes. “That's not what I was gonna ask you.”

 

All at once, the ghostly familiar switch in his brain flipped on, and Valentine was no longer in control of his own thoughts. _Jenny_... he said to himself, honing in on Scarlet's face. _Where have you been, Jenny?_

 

_Her laugh..._ _it was_ _like a choir of angels. Her voice_ _was_ _like music. The light of her smile put the sun to shame. She was my whole world. She was my reason to get out of bed in the morning. She was the sugar in my coffee, the cherry on my sundae, the_ _icing on my cake. She was the ace up my sleeve, my good luck charm. She was the bird singing sweetly in the swaying treetops. She was the sound of rain against my window._ _She was my fire on a cold January night._ _She was every little moment, every fraction of a second t_ _hat made me happy, that made me feel whole. Made me feel like I was worth something._ _She was my everything._

 

_And I let her die._

 

“Nick?” Scarlet stared hard into the synth's yellow eyes as she slipped her glasses back on. “You alright?”

 

Like a ship passing in the night, the voice slipped away, and he was stranded back in reality.

 

“Sorry about that, doll.” he mumbled, pressing his forehead into the heel of his hand. “These old circuits ain't what they used to be.”

 

She was unsure of his explanation, but decided to let it go. “Like I was saying,” she said, her lips curling back up into a smile. “I wasn't going to ask you about your... _man_ parts.”

 

“Sorry, that's usually the first question I get. Especially from women.”

 

“Well now that you brought it up, I kind of have to know,” she giggled, shyly looking away from him.

 

“Let's just say, in their effort to make a more _human-like_ synth, the Institute didn't overlook that part of my anatomy.”

 

Scarlet covered her mouth to keep herself from exploding again, and Valentine shook his head at her childish reaction, though he couldn't prevent himself from smiling.

 

“Noted.”

 

“Now getting back to your original question...” he lead her, not wanting to embarrass her further.

 

“I was actually wondering if it was okay to ask you about your programming, your software, your motor functions, stuff like that. I didn't know if you considered that private information, or if it was rude of me to ask.” She swiveled toward him on her bar stool and crossed her legs. “But I guess you're a pretty open book, huh?”

 

“I'll admit, it's hard to offend me. Go ahead. What do you wanna know?”

 

“For instance,” she began, pointing at his smoldering cigarette. “Why do you smoke when you don't have organic lungs? Or nicotine receptors? Or do you have nicotine receptors?”

 

“Ha. I get that one a lot, too.” He took an especially long drag of his cigarette, studying it as he pulled it away from his mouth. “It's mostly just a habit left over from the original Nick. But I like to think it makes me seem more human, in a way. Less like the Institute constructs that people fear and resent.”

 

“Makes sense,” she said, lighting a cigarette of her own. “Now when you say 'The Original Nick,' you're talking about the human who lived before the bombs fell. The person whose memories you inherited. Right?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Why do you make the distinction?”

 

“What d'you mean?”

 

“I mean, his memories are your memories, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“You've got his personality, too?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So you're basically the same person. The only difference between you and him is how you were made. But in all the ways that make Nick Valentine Nick Valentine, you're completely identical.”

 

“But I _know_ we're not the same person,” he insisted, tapping his finger on the top of the bar. “I _know_ I'm not human. Part of what makes an individual is their unique experiences, and Nick and I have almost nothing in common in that respect.”

 

“Aren't you programmed to _believe_ that you are Nick, though?”

 

“In a way, yes.”

 

“So how do you separate the requirements of your programming from the reality of your experiences? How can you tell what's really 'The Original Nick' versus 'The Current Nick,' neurologically speaking?”

 

“Damn doll, now you're gettin' downright philosophical,” he said with a laugh. “I don't know if I can answer that one in a way that you find satisfactory. Yes, I can tell the difference between my implanted memories and my actual ones. But sometimes I have to remind myself that we're two different people. Sometimes, things get a little hazy...”

 

His golden eyes donned a faraway look as he stared at the back of the bar. Scarlet could tell he was getting sidetracked and tried to keep the conversation going. “There's... something else I wanted to ask you,” she said meekly, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass. “It actually might be too personal, so don't feel like you have to say yes.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Well... I was wondering if you might...”

 

“Go ahead doll,” he said coolly. “You're not gonna make me mad.”

 

“Would you let me come with you to see Dr. Amari tomorrow?” She entreated him with a wide-eyed stare, but quickly looked away as he met her eyes and bit her bottom lip. She would never have asked an ordinary human to accompany them to a medical appointment, especially not someone she hardly knew. But her curiosity was nearly overwhelming. She'd love to get a peek at the synth's inner workings, even if it was just to repair a few damaged connections.

 

“You wanna come with me to see the Doctor?” he asked her, caught unaware by the strange request.

 

“I just... it'd be so cool to see your muscular-skeletal structure,” she said, practically begging.

 

“If you find that kind of thing interesting, be my guest,” he said nonchalantly. “Just promise me you'll look away if I have to reveal my... equipment,” he teased.

 

Scarlet nearly doubled over again. After a solid minute of rolling laughter, she finally caught her breath enough to speak. “Alright, Nick. I promise.”


	16. All Kindsa New Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've totally lost it. This is definitely the craziest, dirtiest thing I've ever written.

“Where you off to, Sunshine?” Hancock asked. He sat with his feet propped up on the coffee table, casually smoking a cigarette while Fahrenheit cleaned her gun across from him.

 

“Sorry, I thought I mentioned it last night,” she said, walking briskly across the room to grab her cowboy hat. “I'm going to see the doctor with Nick.”

 

“Huh?” he asked, squinting his scarred face in surprise.

 

“He said I could come watch while Dr. Amari repairs his damaged circuits,” she continued, darting across the room to retrieve her holster.

 

“Why the hell would you wanna do that?” he said with a quizzical smirk of his lips. Fahrenheit didn't look up from her task, but even she looked a little curious as to the vault-dweller's motivation for wanting to attend a routine medical visit with a rusted old synth.

 

“Well for starters, I wanna see how his muscles work,” she said as she began fastening her holster around her hip. “If he operates on a kind of synthetic system of tendons and ligaments, or if it's hydraulics, or a combination of the two. And I wanna check out his power source, see if it's a standard fusion core or something more advanced.” She paused and looked up to the ceiling, considering her own question. “Probably something more advanced,” she asserted, going back to tugging the straps around her hips. “And I wanna know if his skin is all carbon fiber, or if it's got a steel weave in it. And to sense his surroundings, what kind of nervous system he has hooked up underneath it. Are we talking fiber optic threads or multi-mode fibers? Is everything fused into a spinal column like a regular human, or does he have individual sensors that communicate-”

 

Noticing she was starting to ramble, Hancock interrupted her by holding up his palm. “-I think I got the point.”

 

“Sorry,” she said with a bashful smile, tucking the nose of her laser pistol into her holster. “It's been a while since I've had the opportunity to poke around some circuits. And I've never seen something as advanced as Nick. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

 

Hancock thought her excitement was kind of cute. He might not have understood anything about her field of expertise, but it made him feel good to see her so pumped up about something. But at the same time, her eagerness to spend time with Nick perturbed him. He still couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about the way the synth looked at her was unsettling. Last night at the rail, the two looked like they were having a pleasant conversation. But every now and again, Nick's posture would change, or he would go quiet, or stare at her in a way that couldn't be described as anything else but... hungry. Hancock had his hands full trying to keep Cait from drinking herself into a coma. He wasn't able to join them while they talked, even though his possessiveness was almost overwhelming.

 

He smiled at Scarlet warmly, trying to let it go. Surely it was an irrational fear of his. After all, he'd never felt this protective over any woman before. It could be that he was just having trouble coping with his own insecurities. Nick was a good guy, and he felt reasonably sure that Scarlet would be safe as long as she was within the town's limits.

 

“What's Cait up to today?” Scarlet asked, interrupting his thoughts.

 

“I think she's still sleepin' off her hangover right now,” he said critically. “She's probably gonna be useless when she wakes up, but at least it'll be easy to keep an eye on her.”

 

“I'm tellin' ya, Hancock,” Fahrenheit spoke up. “She's a lost cause. Don't know why you're wastin' your time.”

 

“You're probably right, Fahr,” he admitted somberly. “But you know me. I'm a sucker for lost causes.”

 

Scarlet smiled fondly at the ghoul. She knew the fighter's presence was largely unwelcome, and that he didn't have a lot of patience for her attitude. But he was doing his best under the circumstances. He may have thought himself weak or easily manipulated by his compassion, but Scarlet thought him impeccably righteous. It was one of the things about him that she found so irresistible.

 

“I don't know how long it'll take, but I'll be back,” said Scarlet, pulling on Fahrenheit's leather jacket. The merc hadn't asked for her clothes back, and until she did, she was enjoying having something else to wear besides her sweat-stained flannel.

 

“Have fun,” said Hancock, calling after her as she bounced lightly down the State House steps. But as she shut the door behind her, Scarlet thought she had noticed a twinge of hesitation in his voice.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, well. Mr. Valentine.”

 

Irma stretched her legs out on the chaise lounge, letting the fabric of her red dress ride up a little and revealing her shapely calves, which were concealed by tight black stockings. Scarlet and Nick had just walked into the Memory Den when the owner caught his attention. She didn't even bother to get up from reclining against her pillow. She didn't need to. Her voice was enough to stop the synth in his tracks.

 

“I thought you had forgotten about little old me,” she said with a playful smile, propping her face up in her hand. Her slender finger swept across her cheek and she bored into him with a look that was overtly suggestive.

 

“I may have walked out on the Den, Irma...” Nick put his hands in his pockets and strode up to her, cocking his head with a knowing grin. “But I'd never walk out on _you_.”

 

Scarlet watched the interaction with mild fascination. It shouldn't have surprised her, the fact that Nick had an intimate relationship with a woman. But she was still having trouble seeing him as a person rather than just an automaton, as much as she was ashamed to admit that. Maybe it was his appearance, the way his wires and mechanical structure poked their way out in the places where his silver skin was missing. One of his hands was completely devoid of any kind of covering, revealing the bare steel of his skeleton wrapped in multicolored circuits. There was no mistaking him for an ordinary human, and she wrestled internally with her own perception of his physical body versus the nuances of his character.

 

“Don't tell me you came all the way from Diamond City just to see me?” she teased, her voice low and sensual.

 

“As much as I'd like to say that were true,” Nick said with a sigh, “I've got to see the Doc. Got beat up pretty bad on my last assignment.”

 

“That's too bad,” she said with mock remorse. “I was hoping that since you were back in town, we might get to spend a little quality time together.” Irma punctuated her sentence with a coy wink and a cluck of her tongue.

 

“Well... I never said I'd be there all day,” he said, matching the flirtatious lilt of her tone. “Maybe after I'm done, you and I can get a drink.”

 

Irma chuckled softly and leaned into the arm of the sofa. “The doctor's downstairs, you big flirt,” she said. “Come talk to me when you're done.”

 

“Trust me,” he said, tipping his hat. “I ain't leavin' town again without saying goodbye.”

 

Scarlet followed him as he made his way to the staircase in the back, curious about the interaction but unsure of how or if she should broach the subject. But the detective was one step ahead, and spoke before she had the chance to ask anything.

 

“Irma and I go way back,” he said as they descended the steps. “I think she's just a sucker for the whole private eye getup. Even so, she's one of the few women who would consider being romantically involved with a synth.”

 

“Do you have... I mean, do you feel...” Scarlet began awkwardly. Her interest was almost embarrassing, but it was overcoming enough to embolden her. There was no doubt that she would never have even considered asking an organic human about anything so personal.

 

“Yeah, I have a sex drive,” he said lightly, talking over her. “I don't know if Irma would have been Nick's type, but she's definitely a godsend for a lonely old detective like me.”

 

“Did Nick have a girlfriend or a wife or anything?”

 

Valentine stopped just short of opening the door to Dr. Amari's office. Scarlet halted too, her eyes wide with inquisitive innocence. She had no idea the severity of the impact her words had just had on him, and he was cool enough not to let it show. But the thought pierced his heart like a red-hot dagger, and the coolant surged in his veins.

 

 _Not now..._ he told himself. The voice in his head threatened to take over again, and he fiercely avoided looking at the woman next to him. He wrestled with his own programming, attempting to stay in control of his emotions. Nick wished he had a better grasp of what was going on. Something had changed in him since he had been rescued from vault 114. Some wire had been crossed, some line of code had been altered, or some facet of his software had been corrupted. Whatever it was, he couldn't put his finger on it, and he desperately wished now that he hadn't agreed to let Scarlet accompany him to this meeting. With the young woman observing, he didn't know if he had the courage to ask Dr. Amari to look into it. She would undoubtedly ask about his symptoms, and he was too ashamed and too far gone to openly admit it in front of this girl, this woman who reminded him so much of the one he loved...

 

 _That_ Nick _loved,_ he asserted inwardly. It wasn't him. It was a shadow, a ghost from an artificial past. He just had to keep reminding himself that whatever was happening in his head, it had no basis in reality. The synth had gone through similar issues before, having to convince himself to remain rational in the face of his implanted memories. But this was proving to be far more troubling than anything he had encountered previously. And as he clung to consciousness, holding onto the tangible world around him, he cursed the universe for bringing the reincarnation of his beloved Jenny back into his miserable life.

 

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them as Nick thought about how to respond. Scarlet was politely silent, and she could tell that he was struggling with some kind of internal conflict. She realized she had touched on something sensitive, and was about to apologize for bringing it up.

 

But once more, Nick broke the silence before she had the opportunity. “He did,” he said tersely. “A fiancee. But it's not a memory of his I like to dwell on.”

 

Scarlet swallowed thickly but nodded her understanding. She wouldn't bring it up again, however anxious she was to know everything she could about him. He was acquiescent with most of her questions, but as they entered the doctor's office, she resolved to choose her words more carefully in the future.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hello?” Scarlet's timid voice echoed through the State House. She couldn't hear anyone talking, any footsteps on the floor, any sign that someone might be home. The totality of the silence made her nervous, and she crept cautiously up the staircase into the parlor.

 

 _Where is everyone?_ Maybe they had gone to the rail. Cait had probably hounded Hancock relentlessly to let her go, and he would have felt obligated to accompany her.

 

She had spent hours with Dr. Amari, taking mental notes as the physician peeled back the layers of Nick's synthetic skin and poked around his insides. It was an informative experience to say the least, and she felt reasonably sure that she understood the basics of how he functioned, at least on a mechanical level. The doctor hooked him up to a terminal briefly to scan his software for viruses or other abnormalities, but it barely scratched the surface of the complexity of Nick's programming. Scarlet hoped that eventually he would allow her the courtesy of letting her poke around his head. It would have to be someday in the future, though, as she doubted she had attained the level of trust needed to allow her entry to the depths of his own mind.

 

Just as she had removed her Hat and holster, a small hand clamped over her mouth and a slender arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back into the diminutive frame of none other than Cait.

 

Scarlet gasped, the sound muffled by Cait's palm over her mouth. Her body was warm against her back as she pressed herself close, standing on tiptoe in order to whisper into her ear.

 

“Caught ya,” she said, smiling against Scarlet's neck. Her breath was hot and spiced with alcohol, and it started a chain reaction of goosebumps that exploded all along her tingling skin.

 

Having gotten past the initial shock of being grabbed, Scarlet relaxed somewhat in the fighter's hold. She surprised herself at the fact that she didn't resist, but their closeness created an immediate spark of arousal that pulsed straight into her clit. Her body reacted by letting itself go, delving further into the desires that threatened to take hold of her senses.

 

As Scarlet was processing what has happening, Cait wasted no time in sliding a hand underneath her shirt and reaching up to paw at one of her breasts.

 

“God damn,” Cait said into the back of her neck. “I've been wantin' ta get my hands on these tits of yours.” After she had finished groping one, she moved onto the other, pulling the mound of flesh out of the cup of her bra. “They're huge! I'm so jealous...”

 

Scarlet whimpered softly against her palm as she tweaked her nipple. Cait's hips were grinding against her ass as she encouraged the little nub to harden, and Scarlet could feel the heat radiating from between the girl's legs. She pressed her thighs together, and her skin slipped against itself from the moisture that seeped from her lower lips.

 

Cait removed her hand from Scarlet's mouth and slid it beneath her shirt, grasping to pull down the other cup of her bra and freeing both breasts for her to toy with. Her tank top was rolled up to her neck, and her nipples were achingly erect as they were exposed to the open air.

 

Scarlet was motionless as Cait continued her assault, chuckling with delight as she elicited several small, yearning moans from her open mouth. Then, sinking her fingernails into the flesh of one of her breasts, she shoved her other hand into the front of Scarlet's jeans, feeling her way beneath her underwear.

 

“So it's true then,” she snickered, running her fingertips over her wet slit. “That ghoul of yours wasn't lyin'.”

 

“Wh-what?” she panted, her eyes closed as she rolled her hips along with Cait's strokes.

 

“He said you were wantin' to get me in bed. But that you were nervous 'cause ya hadn't been with another girl before.”

 

“He said that?” Scarlet tried to be upset that Hancock had gone behind her back and revealed her secret, but found it impossible against Cait's lewd exploration of her body. Her small, feminine hands were delightfully erotic against her skin. She had imagined this kind of scenario almost non-stop since they first met, and it was mind-boggling that it was actually happening.

 

“Don't worry,” Cait said, scraping her teeth along her shoulder. “The feeling's mutual.”

 

Cait continued, massaging her fingertips over Scarlet's hard clit in wide circles, dialing up her arousal. For her part, Scarlet felt paralyzed, unable to do anything but moan softly and half-heartedly attempted to release herself from the girl's grasp.

 

“If you want me ta stop, ya know how ta break free,” she chided. “I taught ya how, remember?”

 

Scarlet wasn't sure what came over her. Maybe it was the fact that they had been in a similar position before, even when they were just practicing moves in the arena. Or maybe it was the fact that Cait was so small, and seemed so easy to overpower. Whatever the reason, Scarlet thrust herself forward and out of her hold. Then, whirling around to face her, she grabbed her by the wrists and flung her back against the State House wall, meeting her impact by throwing her body against hers and forcing her tongue into her mouth.

 

Cait was briefly stunned and her hands flew back against the wall. But as Scarlet's tongue circled her own, she reached up to grab her around the neck, meeting her kiss with equal ferocity as she captured Scarlet's thigh between her legs.

 

Scarlet kept her eyes closed, focused on the taste and feel of Cait's soft lips and velvety tongue, while she fumbled with the laces of her corset. Eventually, she loosened them enough to pull the garment down, revealing her small, pert breasts to her roaming hands. Her nipples were large and pink and quickly pebbled beneath her thumbs as she caressed them, pausing to squeeze her tiny breasts before grasping both nipples tightly in her fingers.

 

Scarlet broke their kiss and leaned back, watching Cait's face contort with pleasure as she tugged her nipples. Her green eyes were nothing but slits as Scarlet raked her gaze over the girl's chest, noting the smattering of freckles that covered every bit of her milky white skin. She grinned and craned her head down, taking one of the pointed tips between her lips and flicking it with her tongue. Cait's breasts were so small she was almost able to fit the entirety of it into her mouth, and lapped and suckled at it with relish as if she were a starving infant.

 

Scarlet's breasts were still exposed and perched high over the fabric of her bra cups, and Cait reached out to touch them even as her head lolled back against the wall. Scarlet moaned at the sensation of her petite fingers running over her flesh, her desire heightened by the feeling of Cait pushing her chest into her ravenous mouth. Cait swirled her hips around, and Scarlet pressed her thigh firmly in-between them, giving her something to grind against while she moved to her other breast, giving it the same treatment that she had the other.

 

They were both working each other into a frenzy, and Scarlet finally pried herself away long enough to drag Cait by the arm into Hancock's bedroom. Cait immediately began stripping out of her clothes while Scarlet shut the door behind them, watching with fascination as the fighter revealed her lean, muscled body to her virgin stare.

 

She was impossibly tiny. Apart from being short, it looked like she had just enough skin to cover her slender bones, though she was shapely enough to have the definition of a feminine curve to her waist. A gush of fluid pulsed from her core as Cait motioned for her to come forward, laying back on the bed and opening her legs.

 

Scarlet hurriedly removed her clothing, her eyes transfixed on the budding flower of Cait's sex on display. Her pussy lips were a roaring shade of red, and the wetness that coated them caught the barest reflection of light. As soon as Scarlet was completely undressed, she nearly dove onto the bed, burying her face into Cait's thighs and wrapping her arms around them.

 

Cait leaned her back up against the headboard, allowing Scarlet room to lay flat on her stomach so that she could comfortably access her womanhood. She wanted to be gentle, slow, to maybe tease her a little before devouring her cunt. But upon inhaling the sweet, heady musk that practically poured from her center, she found that she couldn't contain her excitement. She circled her tongue once or twice around her small, erect clitoris before plunging it into her opening, pressing her nose into the thatch of red curls that covered Cait's mound.

 

The taste reminded Scarlet of her own flavor, when she would lick Hancock's fingers after he had invaded her with them. But it was unique, damp and earthy, yet sweet and piquant, bringing to mind an aged bottle of wine. And the juicy effluence that gushed into her mouth was enough to make her own pussy clench with need, and she absently ground her hips against the mattress as she dined on the licentious treat in front of her.

 

Cait smiled and closed her eyes. “Ya sure this is your first time?” she asked rhetorically, Scarlet's mouth being fully occupied with her task. “You eat pussy like a fuckin' professional.”

 

Scarlet smiled in spite of herself and continued exploring Cait's folds with her mouth, running the tip of her tongue along her slit and nibbling at her clit before going down again.

 

She could feel the muscles in Cait's pelvis squeezing around her tongue, pulling at it as her pussy throbbed from the sensation. Her mouth hung open and she breathed in hot pants of ardor, approaching the height of her desire. “Fuck...” she groaned, pinching at her own nipples, adding to the pleasure she was receiving between her legs.

 

Scarlet pulled away momentarily, realizing that Cait was on the verge of achieving total bliss. “I want you to come in my mouth,” she commanded, ensuring every word fell warmly upon her throbbing cunt. She clamped her mouth around the entirety of Cait's small pussy, sucking and slurping as she flicked her tongue back and forth over her clit.

 

“I'm gonna come all over your face,” Cait growled. She latched onto Scarlet by the back of the head and grabbed at her hair, pulling her in with the force of someone much bigger and stronger than she. She ground her hips roughly against Scarlet's mouth, sliding up and over her nose before thrusting down to her chin. Cait gritted her teeth as she fucked Scarlet's face, hissing and moaning before finally letting out a cry that rattled the windows as she reached her climax.

 

Scarlet almost came herself at the feeling of Cait's opening pulsing and twitching against her. A final surge of wetness practically poured from between her legs, bathing Scarlet's face in her nectar.

 

Cait kept the pressure on the back of Scarlet's head, humping and grinding until her cries abated and her breath evened out. Slowly, she released her hold, allowing Scarlet to pull back and breathe deeply, having almost been suffocated, though pleasantly so, by her dripping cunt.

 

She looked up at Cait with a satisfied smile. The girl grinned back at her, flushed and still breathing heavily from her release. Scarlet wiped her mouth against the back of her hand and was about to go in again when Hancock's voice penetrated the air.

 

“Looks like you girls are having fun.”

 

Scarlet hopped up to her knees and turned around to face him. She hadn't even heard the door open. Her face turned a bright shade of red as she realized that he had been there, watching them, for who knows how long.

 

“I was wonderin' when you were gonna show up,” said Cait. Scarlet gave her a puzzled look. Had she planned on having him there? No doubt she would have been able to see the ghoul entering the bedroom. And if she had, she hadn't bothered to say anything, allowing Scarlet to continue without letting on.

 

“Don't let me stop you,” Hancock said with a devilish grin. He leaned casually against the wall, but Scarlet could see the bulge of his erection straining in his pants.

 

Scarlet stared at him in bewilderment, embarrassed and aroused all at once by what was happening. She wasn't sure what to do next, but the aching deep inside of her begged for more, more of Cait, and more of Hancock, too.

 

“Ya know, I don't mind if he joins us,” said Cait. Scarlet looked back at her apprehensively, but she gave her a confident smile. “If you want. I'll leave it up ta you.”

 

Her head whipped back and forth between the two of them, and Hancock chuckled at her obvious confusion.

 

“I won't fuck her,” he said reassuringly. “Just you.”

 

That wasn't really what was holding her back, but it did alleviate her fears somewhat. She realized that by sleeping with Cait she was creating a double-standard if she refused to allow him to be part of it. And she had considered his request that he at least be able to watch, if not join in, when they did decide to fool around.

 

But she honestly believed that it would never actually happen. And in every sexual encounter in her past, it had always just been two people. It was supposed to be private, intimate, a secret kept behind bedroom doors.

 

Yet here they were, the three of them. And neither Cait nor Hancock seemed at all dissuaded by the situation.

 

Scarlet found she could do nothing but nod her head. It was a daunting step to be sure, but a voice in the back of her head told her to go for it. The opportunity was impossible to pass up.

 

Hancock took off his hat and shrugged the coat from his shoulders. Then he loosened the collar of his undershirt, but didn't take it off as he approached the bed.

 

“Get on your knees,” he said rather forcefully.

 

Scarlet bade his request and poised on her hands and knees, feeling grateful that he had told her what to do. She was unsure of how to proceed with the experience, after all, there being three of them instead of only two.

 

As Hancock climbed onto the bed and perched on his knees behind her, Scarlet understood why he had such a large bed. This certainly wasn't the first time he had had three bodies in it. In fact, she assumed he had probably had more than that, and on more than one occasion. The mattress was spacious enough to accommodate all of them, and she bit her bottom lip as Cait shifted in front of her.

 

“Is it alright if I touch him?” she asked Scarlet.

 

“I thought you weren't into ghouls,” Hancock said mockingly.

 

“Well if I'm gonna suck while you fuck, I might not be able to avoid it,” she snapped back playfully.

 

Scarlet's heart drummed rapidly, envisioning what Cait was describing. Her head bobbed up and down vigorously, eager to experience what the two of them had in store for her.

 

Cait smiled as she rotated around and lay on her back. Then, she slid beneath Scarlet's body head-first, pausing to give her tits a slap and a squeeze before settling underneath her pussy.

 

Scarlet listened as Hancock unzipped his pants and pulled them down, letting them collect around his thighs as the tip of his cock nestled in the crack of her ass. She looked down, soaking in the sight of Cait's body beneath her, the girl's engorged folds wet and waiting just beneath her face.

 

“That's a nice little pussy you got there, Wolfie,” she said, running her palms across the backs of her thighs before resting a hand outside her opening. “I bet you're nice and tight...” She slipped her middle finger into her walls with ease, Scarlet being fully aroused by their previous activity.

 

She gasped and fell from her hands to her forearms, sighing with pleasure as her face brushed up against Cait's lower lips.

 

“Yeah, she is,” Hancock said, enveloping his scarred erection in his hand. “So if you don't mind, I need you to get outta my way.”

 

“You can have her ass. Her pussy's mine.”

 

Scarlet's eyes snapped open and her heart nearly stopped. _Is she saying what I think she's saying?_ For all of their experimentation, that was one thing she and Hancock had yet to get around to trying. She hadn't tried it with any man, in fact, or on herself. She'd never had the urge to do it.

 

“Why don't you let her decide that one, Cait,” he stated firmly. He could see the muscles of Scarlet's back tensing nervously when she suggested it, and he didn't want to throw too many new things at her at once. He wanted Scarlet to enjoy herself, and although he felt reasonably sure that she would if they tried it, her own diffidence would probably interfere with her pleasure.

 

As Hancock stroked the smooth skin of her ass with his rough hand, all of her reservations drowned beneath a wave of her own lust.

 

“Do it,” she said, looking back at him over her shoulder.

 

The fiery gleam in her eye shot a pulse straight into his cock, and a drop of fluid leaked out of the slit at its head.

 

“So, you're tryin' all kindsa new things, aren't ya?” Cait asked, flicking the tip her tongue briefly over Scarlet's clit. She shuddered in response, but maintained eye contact with the ghoul behind her, her eyes desirous and entreating.

 

Hancock initially looked like he was going to protest, but he grinned, releasing his cock and letting the tip bounce against her puckered hole. “If that's what you want, then let me warm you up.”

 

Scarlet watched as he leaned forward and spit against her ass. The filthiness of it amped her up even more as he gently ran his index finger over the hole, working his saliva over it as he applied a little pressure.

 

Cait removed her finger from her womanhood and ran it in between her slit, bringing it to rest on top of the sensitive bundle of nerves at its crown. She circled around it, imparting the moisture from her fingertip over the bud until it was as slick as the rest of her.

 

While Cait continued to tease her, Hancock deftly inserted the end of his finger into Scarlet's virgin hole, and she gasped and shut her eyes at the strangeness of the feeling.

 

“Try to relax,” he soothed. She did her best considering the circumstances and tried to focus on the pleasant tingling of her clit. It was bizarre to say the least, feeling something going in there. But she bit her lip and attempted to let the tight muscle loosen around his finger.

 

He slowly eased it in, pausing with every inch to allow her to get used to the sensation. He could feel the walls of her pussy clench intermittently as Cait massaged her clit, and she moaned with surprised satisfaction when she felt the edge of his knuckle meeting her tight opening.

 

Cait paused, grasping Scarlet's thighs and coaxing her hips downward so that she could replace the motion of her fingers with the warm softness of her mouth. Scarlet complied, spreading her legs until her clit met with Cait's smiling lips, and groaned as she pressed the flat of her tongue to the aching bud.

 

Scarlet gasped as Hancock removed his finger, the fullness in her abdomen having suddenly vanished, and she found herself yearning for him to re-enter her. He eventually did, but not before spewing another generous coating of saliva onto her asshole, this time working two of his fingers in until he could go no further.

 

To her own shock, Scarlet pushed back against his hand, forcing him inside just as deep as she possibly could. Cait's tongue washing over her clit was an indulgent accompaniment to this strange new feeling, and it was coming together pleasantly. She lowered her head, dipping her tongue into Cait's folds and relished the moan that she felt vibrating through the girl's mouth.

 

After a couple of minutes sliding in and out, working her loose with his fingers, Hancock spoke up again. “You ready?” he asked, the raspiness of his voice echoing deep within the walls of his chest.

 

“Mhmm...” moaned Scarlet, still occupied with laving at Cait's warm, twitching lips.

 

“Not yet...” said Cait breathlessly as she pulled her mouth away. “Lemme see that cock...”

 

She wrapped her petite hand around the enormous shaft and pulled him to her face, guiding the tip of him to her open lips. Scarlet could feel him as he shifted his hips downward, the lower part of his abdomen pressing against her bottom as he slid his cock into her mouth. She listened to the tell-tale sounds of her greedily sucking it, and Hancock hissing the air between his teeth as the wetness surrounded him.

 

She sucked his cock a few times, enough so that when he withdrew it from her mouth, it was glistening with a fresh coat of spit, ready to slide into Scarlet's tight hole.

 

Scarlet felt the retreat of Hancock's fingers once again. This time, they were quickly replaced by the thickness of his penetrating member, which he buried to the hilt with surprising ease.

 

She nearly screamed, though not out of pain. The strangeness of it was almost frightening, but her trepidation was completely overpowered by the immense pleasure of feeling him fill her in an entirely new way. Her enjoyment was heightened in no small part by Cait, who delved into the folds of her pussy with renewed vigor, nibbling and sucking her clit and grasping her around the waist.

 

Hancock moaned behind closed lips as he rested within her, his hips against her ass, his balls pressed against the warmth of her opening. He allowed her a few moments to get used to the sensation. But if he was being honest with himself, he needed a moment, too, as her incredible tightness threatened to destroy the willpower he needed to keep himself from releasing too soon.

 

He pulled out just slightly before going back in, building up a rhythm slowly to avoid causing any pain. Cait continued working her tongue over Scarlet's slit, and Scarlet responded by leaning hard into her pussy, matching the intensity of her pleasure with the hungry ministrations of her mouth.

 

The three of them were lost to it now, abandoning all reservation as they worked to please each other while simultaneously being brought to the edge. Cait thrust her hips against Scarlet's mouth, moaning and sighing as she attempted to keep up the motion of her tongue against her clit. Hancock increased his pace with every pass, and was now sliding in and out of Scarlet's ass as effortlessly as if it had been her pussy. And Scarlet herself was ascending to the summit of ecstasy, overwhelmed and overstimulated by the activity in and around her core.

 

Just then, Cait inserted two fingers into Scarlet's center, curling them against her sweet spot and exerting just the smallest bit of pressure.

 

Scarlet's wild moans were muffled into Cait's pussy. She bore down against her fingers, timing it with Hancock jutting himself deep within her. She rolled her hips and he fucked her in earnest now, grabbing her by the buttocks and slamming his cock into her unabashedly.

 

The combination of being filled in both holes, along with Cait's tongue on her clit, was finally too much to bear. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she nearly blacked out from the sheer pleasure of it all. She practically wailed into Cait's center, her tongue thrashing and darting along every fold, and held onto the bed sheet for dear life as she came.

 

Cait followed shortly after. The sound of Scarlet's climax, along with the rapacious movement of her tongue, shot bolt after bolt of electricity into her core until the walls of her pussy were clenching once again, and she writhed and moaned beneath the woman's naked body.

 

He heard them both coming. He could feel Cait's fingers between the thin membrane that separated his cock from Scarlet's pussy. Her cunt quivered and contracted, and he could feel every spasm as her ass tightened around his shaft.

 

He held off as long as he could manage, waiting for Scarlet to start coming down before he pulled out of her. Fisting and stroking his cock, the pressure in his balls finally burst forth, showering her back with rope after rope of his seed.

 

It seemed like an eternity passed while they each came down from the heights of their pleasure. The sounds of wet skin and slurping tongues were replaced with heavy pants and contented sighs. Cait eventually rolled out from under Scarlet, who collapsed face down onto the mattress. Hancock fell to his back alongside her, his eyes still closed as he reeled from the intensity of it all.

 

“Jesus Christ,” said Cait, finally breaking the silence. “Who needs psycho when you can do somethin' like that?”


	17. In Sheep's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! In case y'all are wondering, I'm getting close to wrapping things up...

“That's strange. McDonough usually keeps her locked up tight.”

 

Nick, Hancock, and Scarlet cautiously approached the gate of Diamond City. The synth was wary to even come this close with them, but there was an uncharacteristic absence of guards when they got to the signs directing them to the entrance. As long as there wasn't any danger from one of McDonough's hired guns, he was content enough to walk closely behind them, hiding his face in case he was spotted.

 

There wasn't any security at the gate, either. As they got closer still, Scarlet noticed the old ticket booth that served as a guard post was suspiciously empty. “Something's wrong here...” she said lowly, slowing to a stop just in front of the turnstiles.

 

“You got that right,” Hancock said, taking out his shotgun and cocking it noisily.

 

“Now now,” said Nick, holding up a calming hand in front of the ghoul. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I know I said I wasn't going into the city with you two, but under the circumstances, I think it'd be a good idea if I tagged along.”

 

Scarlet nodded at him. “I agree. I'd feel a lot safer than going in there just the two of us.”

 

Hancock tried not to scowl at her. _What did she mean by that?_ Did she not trust him to keep her safe? Did she think the detective would be better able to protect her? Why the hell was she so excited to have him around, anyway?

 

The ghoul shrugged his shoulders and tried to focus on the situation at hand. Things were amiss, and the air was disturbingly quiet. “Let's go,” he said, wanting to get things moving. If there was something bad waiting inside for them, they weren't doing themselves any favors by avoiding it.

 

Surreptitiously, the trio made their way in, nearly sneaking down the narrow corridor that opened up into Diamond City Market.

 

At the base of the steps just in front of the sign pointing to the mayor's office, Danny Sullivan was sitting down with his back against the post, slumped over in pain and clutching his stomach.

 

A small group of guards was gathered around him, and the town's citizens were pooling into the square, whispering and murmuring to each other.

 

Two security officers were standing off to the side, arguing.

 

“I'm not going up there,” said one of them. “Not after what happened to Sullivan.”

 

“Somebody's gotta do something. He's got a fucking hostage!” replied the other.

 

Scarlet ran towards Danny, Nick and Hancock trailing behind her. When she reached his side she knelt down beside him, putting her fingers on his neck to check his pulse. She looked up at the gawking crowd around her, glowering at their helpless faces. “Where the hell is the doctor?” she demanded.

 

“Just getting a stimpack,” Doctor Sun said, pushing his way through the throng of bystanders.

 

Scarlet stood up to give the man room to treat the young officer. “Two slugs in the gut, plus the fall from the elevator... I ain't gonna make it,” he groaned as the doctor jabbed the needle into his stomach.

 

“What's going on here?” asked Nick.

 

“Danny saw the mayor talkin' to a synth from the Institute,” chimed in a nearby guard, his voice muffled by his umpire's mask. “Listened in on 'em. Guess he found out McDonough's working for them.”

 

A lump formed in Hancock's throat as he listened to the man's explanation. Nick's hunch had proved correct. He knew what kind of man his brother had become when he took over Diamond City; morally corrupt, greedy, selfish, and lacking a basic sense of compassion. But now he knew why.

 

McDonough had to have been replaced with an Institute synth. It all made sense. The change in his personality all those years ago. Deciding to run for mayor. Running on the platform of eliminating the ghoul presence in the city.

 

And Piper's accusations made a lot more sense now, too. Scarlet's child wasn't the first missing person case to come through, she had said. There were a lot of people rumored to have been taken by the Institute in Diamond City, and McDonough had turned a blind eye to the strange disappearances. He was aiding the organization in kidnapping innocent people simply by way of controlling the security force. With the mayor keeping them occupied, the Institute could avoid discovery very easily.

 

“What's this about a hostage?” the detective pressed. “Where's Piper?” He looked around for the reporter, who would normally have been keen to immerse herself in the mayhem.

 

“McDonough took his secretary, Geneva, at gunpoint, and sealed himself off,” interjected another officer. “I think Piper's up there by herself trying to break the door down.”

 

“Well what the hell are you all doing here standing around?” Nick said harshly. “Get up there and help her!”

 

“No offense Valentine, but we ain't fuckin' with no synth,” the man said soberly. “If you want him that bad, be my guest.”

 

“We have to get up there...” said Scarlet, craning her head toward the elevator platform that rested just outside McDonough's window.

 

“He – He's disabled the elevator,” Danny's voice creaked from below them. “But...” he coughed violently for a moment before going on, “There's a staff elevator next to the booth at the entrance. Should still be working.”

 

“Let's not waste any time,” said Nick. He turned on his heel and ascended the ramp leading out of the stadium, and Scarlet and Hancock jogged after him. He pulled a pistol from his holster and Scarlet followed suit, readying her gun in her hands as they left the marketplace.

 

Her heart was pounding in her throat as they stood in front of the elevator. Nick pressed the button to call it repeatedly, cursing to himself while they waited for it to descend. She cast a wayward glance at Hancock, trying to gauge his mood. Apart from the brief interaction they had shared when Scarlet first entered the city, he was about to see his brother for the first time in nearly a decade, and it wasn't going to be a happy reunion.

 

His brows were straight and low over his face, but he was otherwise expressionless as the elevator doors opened up. The three of them climbed inside silently and Nick pressed the button to send them to the top of the stands.

 

When they stepped off the lift, they were in the mayor's office. The secretary's desk sat empty. Behind it stood Piper, banging on the steel double doors and growling through her clenched teeth. “Open up you bastard!”

 

“Piper,” said the detective, striding toward her. “What's the situation?”

 

The reporter turned around, her eyes widening with surprise at the sight of them all being there. “Oh, uh, hey guys,” she stammered as she collected her thoughts. “McDonough's locked the door. He's got Geneva in there, says he's gonna kill her if we come after him.”

 

“What set all this off?”

 

“Danny was sneaking a nap back in the Mayor's private quarters. I guess he figured he was safe. He doesn't usually go back there during the day.” She paused and examined her hand, cringing as she flexed it into a fist. “Anyway, out of nowhere this guy comes in, and they start talkin' Institute business. Said something about that guy you were lookin' for, Kellogg,” she said, cocking her head at Nick. “He confronted the mayor once the synth left. It was like he disappeared into thin air, he said. And then the mayor pulls out his gun, shoots him twice in the gut, and kicks him off the elevator. He yelled somethin' about how he wasn't goin' down without a fight.”

 

“So he's been found out...” Nick muttered. “Why'd he take Geneva?”

 

“He's trying to use her to barter his way out of this mess,” Piper said, darkening her gaze. “Selfish son of a bitch.”

 

“Looks like this door could give way with enough force...” Nick holstered his gun and examined the crack in-between the two doors, running his hands over the cold steel. “We'll bust our way in and take him down before he can even think about pullin' the trigger.”

 

“No,” said Hancock. He boldly came forward, boring into Nick's golden eyes, readying his shotgun. He had been silent up until now, and they all stared at him in confusion.

 

“What do you mean?” the detective asked sternly, frowning gravely at him.

 

“Let me deal with him. He's my brother. If anyone's gonna kill him, it should be me.”

 

Scarlet noticed Piper's eyebrows arch with surprise as she realized just who the ghoul was. Like everyone else in Diamond City, she had assumed he was a simple, albeit oddly dressed bodyguard. But now that she knew who he was, she nodded slowly to herself, putting the pieces together in her mind.

 

“I don't want to risk the life of an innocent woman,” Nick said, an authoritative lilt coming through his rough voice.

 

“Even if he's a synth, he's got the memories of my brother, right?” Nick folded his arms and nodded hesitantly. “If that's true, then maybe I can get through to him somehow. Convince him to let her go. Maybe even turn himself in.”

 

“It ain't likely,” the detective retorted. “If he's been found out, he knows the Institute's gonna come after him. He's desperate. He'll do anything to escape, including killing whoever might prevent him from leaving.”

 

“Please,” said Hancock, stepping in front of the door. He made it clear by the look on his face that he wasn't asking, though. “If there's even a little bit of my brother in there, you have to let me try to get through to him.”

 

Scarlet and Piper watched as the two men stared each other down. Hancock's mind was set, though Nick was dead sure that nothing was going to get McDonough to listen to reason. Yet, he understood the ghoul's motives. He was sympathetic to his predicament. Synth or not, Institute plant or not, and ghoul or not, the two of them were family. And he knew, even with the inevitable outcome of the day's events, how important the closure would be to them both.

 

Nick sighed heavily, massaging the center of his forehead with his fingertips. “All right,” he relented. “You can try talking to him. But if I even get the hint that he's gonna kill that secretary,” he said, pulling out his pistol and cocking it, “I'm gonna end it whether you like it or not.”

 

Hancock nodded wordlessly in affirmation, then turned to the door. He leaned forward, placing his hand against it and speaking into the narrow crack that separated them. “McDonough,” he said, loud enough to be heard through the door, but not so loud that he was shouting. “It's your brother. It's John. Open the door.”

 

His voice was soft, almost tender, as he implored the man to listen to him. But McDonough fired back at him quickly, his words cutting ferociously through the steel. “Bullshit! You're a ghoul. I can tell by your voice.”

 

Nick glanced at Scarlet, who stared helplessly back at him. She rested her bent elbow at her side, and the nose of her pistol pointed harmlessly toward the ceiling. She wasn't about to interfere with John's personal business, even if this man held information about her son's kidnapper. She had enough faith in him to at least let him try to talk things out, and if their talk happened to turn sour, she would be there to back him up.

 

The detective noted her helplessness and turned back to the door, attempting to diffuse the tension. “It's true, McDonough,” he said, raising his voice so that it carried through the barrier between them. “John went ghoul a few years back. He's been acting as the mayor of Goodneighbor since he left Diamond City.”

 

“Then why the hell is he here?” the mayor snapped back indignantly. “He knows how much I hate those zombie scum.”

 

“You weren't always like this,” John said, a touch of hopefulness catching in his throat as he spoke. “I know we weren't close, but you weren't such a bad guy. You didn't do this kind of shit.”

 

“Answer my question, ghoul!” he snarled. “If you really are my brother, why are you here, now? Why did you decide to come back?”

 

John let out a despondent sigh and leaned his forehead against the steel door. “You remember a couple of weeks ago, when that vault-dweller came to town, lookin' for her kid?”

 

A sharply felt silence fell over the room. The mayor didn't respond, and Hancock continued. “You remember she had a bodyguard, right?”

 

More silence, and the shifting of feet from behind the door.

 

“That was me.”

 

The stillness that overtook them was almost unbearable. Piper, Nick, and Scarlet shared uneasy glances as they waited for something to happen. Hancock stayed where he was, his head against the door, motionless in anticipation for some kind of response.

 

“Nick just said you were the mayor of Goodneighbor,” he finally said, cutting the stressful silence. “Now you're a bodyguard? Lies!” he shouted. “You can't even keep your story straight!”

 

“It was just a cover so you'd let me in,” Hancock replied, almost begging. “I am the mayor of Goodneighbor. The hired gun thing was just an act.”

 

“Oh really?” he asked dubiously. “Now you're going to tell me that you were only here because of that woman.”

 

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I was.”

 

“Ha! Now I know you're lying. John would never go out of his way like that for one of his trollops.”

 

“She's not a trollop,” he said, his voice raising defensively. “I... I love her.”

 

Despite everything that was transpiring, the direness of their situation, Scarlet's heart skipped a beat. The sweetness of his words overcame the strain of their bizarre quandary. She smiled in spite of everything, hopeful tears rising behind her eyes, wishing silently that McDonough would heed the sincerity of his tone.

 

“Spare me your falsehoods,” he said dramatically. “I know horse shit when I smell it.”

 

“Just open the door,” John entreated. “Look at me. Vadim over at the Dugout knew who I was. If he could see the old John hiding somewhere in this messed up face, then so can you.”

 

“Not a chance!”

 

“I'm gonna put my gun away,” he said, holstering his weapon and raising his hands. “I just wanna talk to you. Please, Murphy.”

 

The utterance of the mayor's name hung in the air like a thick blanket of fog, and they were getting dizzy from being caught in the haze. McDonough offered no reply, as if the mention of his given name had struck a bitter chord within him. Nobody knew his first name. Everyone simply called him McDonough, and everyone was oblivious to anything beyond that. Even Geneva, the secretary he held hostage beside him, didn't know it. Yet he was in denial. If this ghoul had somehow discovered something about his past... maybe he had the intention of blackmailing him. Or maybe he was an acquaintance of John's, and had learned his name from speaking to him.

 

But maybe...

 

No. It couldn't be. McDonough ground his molars and dug his heels into the floor, obstinate and resistant to accept his story.

 

But if it really was him...

 

His curiosity was too much to bear. He would humor this ghoul. He would look at him. And if he failed to meet his expectations, he would kill him.

 

“Alright, _John_ ,” he said through a layer of sarcasm. “I'll open the door. I'll look at you. But you tell everyone with you to lower their weapons, or I'm going to kill Geneva where she kneels!”

 

They could hear a sharp cry of despair from the woman followed by a small sob. Nick looked like he was about to charge through and take care of the man once and for all, but he compliantly placed his gun in his holster. Piper had her hand dangling over her own 10 mm, but she let her arm go limp at her side.

 

Hancock looked around at the three of them, ensuring that they had stowed their weapons. Then, turning back to the door, he called out with surprising softness. “Alright, Murph. Everyone's got their guns put away. Come unlock the door.”

 

They waited tensely, listening for the sound of footsteps coming toward them. After a few uneasy seconds, McDonough inched forward, and the lock on the door was disabled with a soft click. John courteously waited for him to dart off and assume his original position before he pushed lightly against the plates of steel, parting them to reveal the red-faced mayor with a pistol pointed to the back of the Secretary's head.

 

“Stay where you are,” he insisted, nudging the back of her head with the nose of his gun. Geneva whimpered and shut her eyes tight, squeezing out a few tears from beneath her shadowed lids. Her straight blonde hair stuck to the remaining trails of the tears she had been crying before, and she clutched the edges of her knee-length skirt with white knuckles.

 

Hancock put his hands up in surrender. “I'm not movin',” he said gently. “I don't wanna hurt you, Murphy.”

 

“Quit calling me that,” he snapped. “Just... just stay where you are, all of you!” he yelled, meeting the eyes of each of them before honing back in on the ghoul. “Let me take a look at you. Step forward, nice and slow.”

 

John took one careful step toward McDonough. The wooden boards creaked beneath his feet and he stopped, waiting for a moment before cautiously placing his foot in front of him again.

 

“Alright, that's enough!” McDonough growled after the ghoul had come forward about four paces. Keeping his gun trained on the secretary, he looked warily at Hancock, critiquing what he saw as he made a head to toe pass.

 

Scarlet felt like she was swallowing shards of glass with the dryness of her throat, and beads of sweat clustered on her creased forehead. Nervously, all of them awaited McDonough's verdict, who studied John with his vengeful, penetrating stare.

 

And then, suddenly, his expression changed. The Mayor's stiff arms began to relax. His furrowed brow parted curiously over his eyes. His mouth, once tightly clamped shut, dropped open just enough to part his lips. The color in his face seemed to drain away, and all at once, it looked like he could have started crying.

 

 _Is it really..._ he thought, looking into the ghoul's coal black eyes, searching, trying to see into his soul if he could. _It is really... it's..._

 

“No,” he snarled, directing the end of his pistol from the back of Geneva's head to John. His eyes narrowed and his chubby hands tightened around the grip of his weapon. “You're not my brother.”

 

The crack of the gunshot hit Scarlet so hard she thought she would fall over, and she watched in horror as Hancock hunched forward, covering his stomach with his hands.

 

“John!” she shrieked, rushing to his side. She wrapped her arms around his waist, attempting to slow his descent as he fell to the floor.

 

Nick's reflexes were superhuman. In an instant, he had drawn his gun and fired, hitting McDonough right in the center of his forehead.

 

The mayor's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He dropped to his knees as he released his gun, then fell forward, landing on his face. And as his hat slid listlessly from his head, it revealed a gnarled exit wound on the back of his skull, bits of flesh and bone visible through his greasy gray hair.

 

Geneva looked up, her hands shaking violently as her sobs rolled into cries of terrified relief. Piper immediately went to her and put a soothing arm around her shoulder, holding the frazzled woman as she recovered from her ordeal.

 

Scarlet held John's head in her lap and looked down at him, assessing his condition as his face contorted in agony. He had taken a bullet in his abdomen. She didn't know whether or not the bullet was fatal, or which of his organs it had gone through. Frightened tears dripped quietly from the corners of her eyes, dropping against Hancock's scarred cheek.

 

Nick bolted over to the two of them. Scarlet looked at the synth, her face awash with dread. “He's hurt bad,” she sniffled, then looked back down at the injured man in her arms.

 

“I'll get the doc,” he said. He ran to the elevator without another word, leaving her weeping silent tears over the ghoul's helpless body.

 

The only sounds were Piper's comforting whispers amidst Geneva's gasping sobs. A pool of blood gathered around McDonough's head, oozing from both of the holes in his skull and spreading around his face.

 

She regarded the fresh corpse bitterly, staring hard at the dead man who had shot her beloved John. Her stomach twisted in on itself, and her mood shifted back and forth between terrified concern and unbridled rage. Not only had this man put a bullet in Hancock's stomach, he was implicit in Shaun's abduction, and harbored the location of his kidnapper. She wished she had been quick enough to pull her gun on him. She wished she had been the one to take his life.

 

“I'm alright, Sunshine,” John said weakly, raising a hand to her face.

 

She abandoned her anger and looked down at him, her eyes wide and her lip trembling as she grasped his palm. “John...” she whispered, letting loose another bevvy of tears.

 

“I mean it,” he said, a little more vigorously. “I've had worse.”

 

“Nick's getting the doctor,” she said. “Just hang on.”

 

In spite of the pain, Hancock managed a chuckle. “It's gonna be okay,” he said, trying to summon up all the reassurance he could. Being a ghoul, it was possible to be killed by a bullet landing in the right spot, even if he was immortal for all intents and purposes. But he was also hardier than the average smoothskin; apart from a head shot, his body could withstand a lot more punishment, and even heal itself at an accelerated rate. He was confident that he was going to come out okay on the other side of this, and while he didn't have ability just then to articulate all of that, he did his best to quell her fears.

 

“Ghouls are tougher than humans,” he said with confidence. “I might be hurt, but I ain't dead. Not yet.” His lips curled up into a knowing smile, and he winked casually up at her tear-soaked face. “Trust me.”

 

A wave of relief washed over her and she smiled back at him, wiping away the last of the tears from her eyes. “I trust you...” she sighed, letting her head fall and craning forward to kiss him.

 

He didn't allow her to linger against his lips, and softly directed her away after only a brief kiss. “Go figure out where they got Kellogg,” he said firmly. “I ain't gonna kick the bucket before the doc gets here.”

 

Scarlet dipped her head resolutely. She carefully lifted the top half of his body from her lap and laid him against the floor, ensuring he was as comfortable as he could be before she went over to McDonough's corpse.

 

She wanted to search his body first, see if he had keys or passwords or anything else that might make her quest for information a little easier. She knelt next to the body, nausea pushing against the back of her throat as she grabbed his arm. Grunting and pulling, she attempted to roll him over onto his back, but found his weight to be too much.

 

“Piper...” she said, her voice straining with effort.

 

The reporter pulled away from the hysterical secretary, whispering words of assurance as she rose. “What'dya need, Wolfie?”

 

“Help me...” she said, groaning with frustration at the man's weight.

 

Piper crouched beside her and braced her grip around McDonough's shoulder, hoisting along with Scarlet until he flipped from his stomach to his back. The two of them recoiled as his limp body seemed to roll into them, and they stared momentarily at the dead man's eyes, which were eerily wide and lifelike.

 

Scarlet hastily opened up his suit jacket and took a brief inventory with her eyes. He had a key ring fastened to his belt loop, which she promptly removed, securing it to her own. She fished through the outer pockets of his coat and, finding nothing but lint, began rummaging through the inner ones. There were a few pieces of paper with some mayoral nonsense scribbled on them, but there didn't appear to be anything useful.

 

She turned her attention to the neatly folded pocket square at his breast. She carefully removed the crisp white fabric, which was starched to the point where it didn't even lose its shape.

 

And as she removed it, along with it came something else... another piece of paper. Something glossy, something thick.

 

It was a photograph.

 

She looked in either direction. Piper was now tending to John, and Geneva was still curled up with her face in her hands. For reasons she didn't understand, Scarlet didn't want anyone to notice her plucking it from the mayor's pocket. Standing up and turning away, she brought it to her face, studying the black and white figures on the fading memento.

 

There were two men. One was easily recognizable as Mayor McDonough. He was much younger and much thinner, but by the shape of his eyes and nose she knew it was him. He even had a mustache, though it was rich with pigment against his youthful face. He was smiling happily into the camera, all teeth and sparkling eyes, looking just about as happy as anyone could be with the barren landscape of the Commonwealth in the background.

 

He had his arm around another man, one just a few years younger. He had long, wavy blonde hair, pulled back into a messy ponytail. His smile was mischievous, and he was smirking rather than smiling as he draped his arm around McDonough. His stance was cocky, his eyes impish and full of laughter. He was handsome, too, almost painfully so. He had a chiseled jaw, rugged cheekbones, and a narrow but strong nose, and his full lips stood out against his pale skin. She found herself smiling at his face, thinking he was good-looking enough to have been a Hollywood heartthrob back in her day.

 

And then the tears came back again with full force as Scarlet soaked in the meaning of the image. She was looking into the past, deep into the recesses of a forgotten history, coming face-to-face with what could have been.

 

She bit against the inside of her lip, stifling her sobs as she tucked the picture into her bra. Taking a deep breath, Scarlet wandered down a hallway to a back room of his office, in search of the terminal that would have Kellogg's location.


	18. Home Plate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is very short and almost pure fluff. I really didn't know where else to fit it in as part of a larger chapter, but I felt this was important to include.

After McDonough's demise, Geneva took over as acting mayor of Diamond City. She was overflowing with gratitude for the ghoul who had taken it upon himself to save her life, and offered him a residence in the city's walls. Scarlet graciously accepted the little house, named Home Plate, on John's behalf. He was laid up in Piper's office, recovering from his injury. She thought it was nice to have a place of their own, somewhere they could get a little privacy, somewhere they could escape if the need arose. And Geneva had made it clear that John and any other ghoul would be allowed into the city without fear of persecution, extending the depth of her thankfulness to all of his kind.

 

After a couple of days, John was able to get up and about, and Scarlet relocated them to their newly acquired residence. She was desperate for some time alone, even if all she did was curl up beside him in bed. It would be another day or so before he was hardy enough for more intimate activities, and Scarlet tried to satisfy herself by simply being close to him.

 

When she searched the mayor's office, she had found a terminal in the corner of his private quarters. After hacking into it, she was bombarded with a slew of incriminating information, not the least of which being Kellogg's whereabouts. He was hunkered down at a place called 'Fort Hagen,' which was a recognizable pre-war location on her Pip-boy. Like Nick had said, it was far out west. And she believed him when he said they'd have an army of synths waiting for them.

 

Hancock tried to convince her to go without him. “Go find your kid,” he told her, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers.

 

“Not without you,” she said. Even though Valentine and Piper had already agreed to accompany her, she couldn't envision herself facing down the man who stole her child away without the man who had saved her from the wasteland.

 

Nick had briefed her on the probable threats they would have to face. Mostly gen 1 and 2 synths, but still powerful enough to be a serious obstacle. While John recovered, Scarlet and Nick spent most of their time putting together a plan of attack, stocking up on pulse grenades, and modifying their weaponry.

 

After about five days of intense recuperation, Hancock insisted he was well enough to go with them. But before they set off for Fort Hagen, Scarlet was anxious to get something off of her chest; quite literally, the black and white photo of McDonough and John that she kept folded and tucked away in her bra. She figured he ought to have it. It was obviously a picture of a happier time, years ago, when the brothers were still close enough to pose for a photograph together. Even though he put up a front that was nonchalant after the death of his brother, she knew he was inwardly grieving his loss.

 

“John...” she whispered softly in his ear. She had stripped down to her underwear and lay next to him, an arm wrapped lovingly around his waist. He was unclothed, and the feeling of her bare skin against his was visibly arousing him. His stiff erection pointed upward, creating a miniature tent out of the blanket he had draped over his hips. Scarlet caught her bottom lip in her teeth, gazing lustfully at its size and shape concealed beneath the fabric, using all of her willpower to resist the urge to pounce on him.

 

“What is it, Sunshine?” he crooned, turning to face her and nuzzling his forehead against hers.

 

“Before we leave tomorrow, I... I wanted to give you something.”

 

“Oh?” he asked, grinning widely as he pulled her closer. “What's that?” He arched a brow suggestively and ran his fingertips along her back.

 

Scarlet wriggled her way gently out of his grasp, sitting up beside him. She looked down at his face with a serious expression, attempting to convey the importance of what she had to say. No doubt he was as eager to join with her as she was, but she couldn't contain her discovery any longer. It had been weighing on her all this time, and only now, when John was fully mended, did she feel right to burden him with it.

 

“When we were in the mayor's office,” she began, purposefully avoiding mentioning McDonough by name, “I found something while I was searching him. Something I think you should have.”

 

John sat up next to her, his curiosity piqued. He draped an arm over his bent knee and eyed her curiously, wondering what it was that made her go so pensive all of a sudden.

 

He eyed her expectantly, waiting as she summoned the courage to reach into the fabric of her bra, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Averting his eyes, she held it out to him, and he took it gently from her shaking fingers.

 

He fought a wave of sorrow that threatened to pour from his eyes as he opened it up. It was him and his brother, back when they were little more than kids. Murphy was in his early twenties, and John figured he couldn't have been older than eighteen.

 

For several excruciating minutes, Scarlet watched his face as he silently studied the photograph. She couldn't even begin to guess what was going through his head. She hoped, at the very least, that he wasn't angry, especially since she had held onto it for several days before giving it to him. And she expected him to be sad. Maybe even shed a tear. But she hated seeing him in any kind of pain, no matter how unavoidable it may be.

 

“Look at how happy we were,” he finally said, his voice swollen with a bitter nostalgia.

 

Scarlet swallowed hard against the ball that rose in her throat. “Where was this?” she asked softly. She knew that he wasn't the type of person to speak candidly about his feelings. But she also knew that when someone was in mourning, it was immensely helpful to open up. He might get angry, or upset, or cry, or endure an onslaught of negative emotions that were inherent in losing a loved one. But if he could release just a little of what he was feeling, let go of just a fraction of the memories that were haunting him, he could begin to heal his spiritual wounds.

 

“It looks like Tenpines Bluff,” he said. “Up north, close to where you lived, in fact.” He stared unblinkingly at the picture, calmly recalling the circumstances surrounding it. “Mom and Dad were still alive. I think Mom took this picture.”

 

“How did you lose your parents?”

 

“Mom was always sick. I think she died just a few months after this...” Scarlet could hear a slight quiver in his voice as he went on. “And Dad... he didn't handle it well. Started drinking to numb the pain.” John looked up, focusing on a random point in the distance. “I found him face down on the railroad tracks, bloated and blue, a bottle of schnapps in his hand.”

 

Scarlet's heart nearly broke on the spot. John's life, as far as she knew, was a carousel of disappointment. The people he loved either died or abandoned him. His chemical abuse, his relationships with women, the adopted persona that veiled his true self, everything about him that he tried to avoid was starkly evident to her.

 

She tried to be strong. She wanted to be the shoulder he could cry on, support him in his hour of need. But she couldn't stop the tears that cascaded over her cheeks, and he ended up pulling her in, and she buried her bleary eyes into the curve of his neck.

 

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. She wept openly, furious at herself because she knew there was nothing she could do to ease his pain. There was no cure for his tortured soul, at least none that existed on this earth, in this level of reality. Scarlet wished she could have restored him, bring him back from the horrors he had been forced to live through, resurrect that mirthful young man in the photograph. He looked so innocent then. But the grime of the wasteland had stained him down to his soul. There was no going back to the person he used to be. John Hancock was the name he used to reinvent himself, and that name was all he had going forward. It was something he could control, something he could make sense of. And he hung to it by whatever thread he could grasp.

 

“Now why are you cryin', Sunshine?” he teased her gently. “Don't tell me you feel sorry for me.”

 

“A little,” she admitted with a sniffle. “I wish there was something I could do. I want to help you. But I feel so helpless...”

 

“Hey,” he said sharply, snatching her chin between his thumb and forefinger and raising her face to meet his stare. She blinked away her remaining tears, staring into his eyes while her lower lip trembled uncontrollably. The sorrow in her shining blue eyes almost made him angry. She was grieving on his behalf, mourning the loss of his brother, his parents, his youth, and seeing her upset because of what he had gone through was tantamount to the bullet he had taken in the stomach.

 

“Let me tell you somethin',” he said, holding her chin up firmly. “Before I met you, I felt like nothing. I was a walking corpse, and not just on the outside. I hated myself. I felt worthless, like I didn't have a reason to keep going. And every day that I woke up was just another day that I had to think about all the bullshit I was forced to wade through up until that point.

 

“But you...” He released his grip on her chin, taking her face softly in his hands. “You're the best fucking thing that ever happened to me. I feel alive again. I feel like my life's got meaning. When I wake up in the morning and see you next to me, all I can think about is what a lucky bastard I am to have found someone like you. You _have_ helped me, Sunshine. You don't need to do anything else. You've already done _everything._ ”

 

Scarlet couldn't keep herself from smiling as he pulled her in, seizing her mouth with a passionate sweep of his lips. She flung her arms around his neck and he wound an arm around her waist, his other hand drifting to the base of her skull and forcing her against him. Their exhalations mingled in each others' mouths as Hancock opened wide, nearly devouring her lips and tongue with the greediness of his kiss.

 

She leaned into him, savoring the smell and taste of his essence, swirling her tongue around his and moaning softly into his mouth. His words had undone her. And as he lay her back on the bed, maintaining the connection between their pulsing lips, she found that she was still crying, only now she was bursting with happiness and adoration. And as they made love, Scarlet was lost in a sea of her own elation, almost wishing that she could stay there forever, blissful and waiting in the strong steadiness of his arms.


	19. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those necessary quests that you've played so much you're sick of it. I tried to keep things short and sweet.

“And there she is. The most resilient woman in the Commonwealth.”

 

Scarlet squared the sights of her pistol on the man in front of her. His head was bald on top, but there was still a short swath of dark brown hair clinging to the lower half of his skull. His angry mouth was framed by a growing shadow of stubble. A hideous scar streaked over his left eye, beginning at the top of his forehead and ending at the edge of his jaw.

 

And his voice. Sinister. Sickening. Calloused.

 

It was Kellogg.

 

The world around her fell to pieces at her feet. The three companions at her back melted into the scenery. The squad of synths that surrounded the man blurred into nothingness. It was just the two of them, facing each other with hardened stares, stalemated and unwavering.

 

Scarlet had faced innumerable perils to get this far. Even with the help of Nick, Piper, and Hancock, she was all but broken by the endless waves of synths she had to fight through as she made her way to him, the man who had kidnapped her son. Sweat was pouring from her face, and the skin on her left arm burned like hellfire where one of them had shot her with its laser rifle. But the pain was just a minor inconvenience that disappeared along with everything else. Adrenaline surged into her veins, renewing her sense of purpose, and endowing her with an incredible endurance that she never thought she possessed.

 

“Where's my baby?” she growled, her resolve cutting into the air like a bolt of lightning. “Where is Shaun?”

 

“Straight to the point, huh?” He chuckled darkly, folding his arms across his chest. “Well, besides being a bit older than you were expecting, I'm afraid he's not even here.”

 

 _Older?_ She wondered. She remembered Nick saying he had a boy with him, around ten years old. _It has to be Shaun. It just has to be..._

 

After Kellogg had shot Nate in the head and left the vault with her baby, she had gone back into stasis. And to this day, she didn't know for sure how long she had been out before she woke up again, when she finally emerged from that cryo chamber, choking down the stale air and shivering back to life.

 

Ten years. That seemed appropriate.

 

She shook her head, attempting not to get caught up in the details. It didn't matter, anyhow. Kellogg knew where he was. And once he told her, she could finally get him back. She would work out the specifics of it later. What was important was that her son was alive. And this asshole... she was going to get the truth out of him, come hell or high water.

 

“Tell me where he is, damn it!” It probably wasn't the best thing she could have said to get him to reveal Shaun's location. But this was the end of the line. Scarlet had reached her breaking point, and she was done playing cat and mouse with these Institute bastards.

 

“Don't worry,” he said with mock sympathy. “Shaun's in a good place. Where he's safe, comfortable, surrounded by people who love him. A place he calls home. The Institute.”

 

As much as she loathed to admit it, she already knew the answer. Even from the beginning, when Hancock had first mentioned the shadowy organization, she had a feeling deep in her bones that they were the ones responsible for the mess she was in. They were the ones with the technological prowess, the manpower, and the motivation for breaking into the vault and stealing Shaun away.

 

 _Surrounded by people who love him..._ As if her love wasn't enough. As if a mother's love was something replaceable. He was saying whatever he could to get under her skin, and it was working. She planted her feet and tightened the grip on the butt of her gun, attempting not to let her pain show through.

 

“Tell me how to find them,” she said flatly. “I know that _you_ know how to get in.”

 

A dark, unsettling laugh reverberated in his throat. “That's impossible,” he snickered, grinning at her frustration. “ _You_ don't find the Institute. The Institute finds _you._ ”

 

Scarlet flipped the switch on the side of her laser pistol, readying it to fire. “I asked you a question,” she sneered. “And you're going to fucking answer me.”

 

“Don't you get it?” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “He's in a place nobody can reach. I couldn't take you there even if I wanted to.”

 

Scarlet was livid. She couldn't tell if he was toying with her, or if he was being serious. Either way, she was nowhere closer to finding her son. She fought back the urge to burst into tears just then. Scarlet felt like she had been forced to go through so much, overcome impossible odds, faced dead end after dead end in a desperate search for her missing child. And now that she was here, staring his kidnapper in the face and pointing a gun at his head, there had to be some satisfaction, some clue, some shred of hope that all of this hadn't been in vain.

 

But it was pointless. Even if he knew how to find the Institute, he wasn't going to tell her. She felt like she had circled back to where she started, stumbling out of the vault, scrounging her way through the desolation of the wasteland and holding onto her life by the tips of her fingers. Every step she had taken, every enemy she had faced and killed, everything she had learned, even all of the friends she had made... none of it mattered. It was all an exercise in futility.

 

“I don't care,” she said through gritted teeth, ignoring the wave of hopelessness that was cresting above her. “If the Institute has him, I'll find a way in. Nothing will stop me.”

 

“Hmph,” he snorted. His smiling lips went flat, as if the woman's determination had impressed him somehow. “I gotta hand it to you. You're persistent. It's the way a mother should be.” He let his hands fall from his chest and swung them aimlessly at his sides. “I guess if I were you, I'd be actin' the same way. Even if it is completely useless.”

 

She leered at the mercenary, who raised his head arrogantly at the seething young woman. Their conversation was over. She wasn't going to get anything more out of him. And if he was being honest with himself, he was tired of answering questions down the barrel of a loaded gun.

 

“I think we've been talking long enough,” he said tersely, clenching his fists. “We both know how this has to end, right?”

 

Scarlet raised a corner of her mouth, returning his attitude with a smug look of her own. “You bet your ass, I do.”

 

In the time it took her to squeeze the trigger, Kellogg was already reacting. The laser blast she had aimed for his chest harmlessly clipped his shoulder as he ducked and removed a stealth boy from the inside of his jacket. She thought she saw him smiling as he activated it, fading into the scenery of the fort's control room.

 

She was immobilized by her own rage. She just stood there, lost in her own fury, her arms still extended as if she were preparing to fire. She didn't even seem to notice the wall of synths that approached her, or the pulses of their laser rifles that whirred past her head.

 

“Scar, what the hell are you doin'!?”

 

A broad arm braced itself around her chest from behind. She fell back listlessly, her back pressed against Nick's chest as he pulled her down to the floor.

 

She crumpled into a bewildered ball, looking up with a dead-eyed gaze at the detective kneeling over her. He shielded her body with his own, taking what cover he could behind the desk in front of him. He poked his head intermittently around the side, firing several carefully-aimed shots when he had the opportunity.

 

“Sunshine!” John yelled, diving down onto the floor next to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her forcefully. “Snap out of it!”

 

She blinked several times, her reality coming into focus. The endless barrage of projectiles exploding around her head all at once became deafening. Scarlet crawled out from beneath Nck and scrambled to her hands and knees, and her protective fight or flight instincts slowly started to kick in.

 

Hancock took up a position on the other end of the desk, mirroring the detective as he fired into the advancing hoard of synths. She looked around, trying to find a suitable place for her herself to shoot from. Glancing back against the wall, she noticed Piper crouching behind a large crate, readying a pulse grenade in her hand.

 

“Hot potato!” she yelled over the din, and lobbed the grenade into the fray.

 

Nick dove in the opposite direction of the explosive's line of travel; a pulse grenade would be an uncomfortable experience for an organic life form, but just one small zap of power that might erratically strike his metal body would be enough to incapacitate him.

 

Scarlet resumed Nick's position behind the desk as the grenade exploded into a globe of blue electricity, its tendrils reaching out for the nearby synths and rattling them where they stood. She peered down the sights of her pistol at their stunned bodies, aiming for exposed wires or other vulnerable areas of opportunity as she fired.

 

Of the synths that had been affected by the pulse grenade, only a few were still left standing, and even they were so badly damaged that they could hardly aim their weapons. One of them had even lost its combat sensors, and fired round after round at his allies before they caught on.

 

Once the danger of the explosive had passed, Nick crawled back over, sidling behind Scarlet. “I think I see him, behind that power station in the back!” he shouted, briefly pointing over her shoulder.

 

She followed the line of his sight to the back of the room. If she squinted, she thought she could make out the mirage-like ripples that just barely distorted the air, belying Kellogg's position through the cloaking effect of his stealth boy.

 

“Go get that son of a bitch,” yelled Hancock to her over his shoulder. “We'll cover ya!”

 

Nick nodded in affirmation and cocked his pistol. Scarlet took a deep breath and tightened her grip around her gun, readying herself to dart into the line of fire. She should have been scared, petrified even. If this had been any other fight against any other enemy, she would probably have succumbed to a panic attack at the suggestion of what she was about to do.

 

But this wasn't just any ordinary foe. It wasn't some faceless creature that she had happened upon in the wasteland, or a random Gunner who was just trying to earn his paycheck.

 

This was the man who stalked her nightmares since the day she emerged from vault 111. This was the man who murdered her husband in front of her eyes, and although she felt no great love for Nate, he was still innocent, still the father of her child, and he had killed him in cold blood. This was the man who kidnapped her baby boy. He was the man who robbed her of the one treasure she had in her messed up life.

 

She should have been scared. She should have been at least a little nervous. But the scorching, insatiable swell of vengeance roiled in her breast, taking over whatever rational pieces of her mind she had left.

 

Scarlet was surprisingly calm, rising to her feet and running confidently in Kellogg's direction. Her field of vision narrowed into a tunnel that highlighted her path, blacking out any other distractions. She was on the warpath, and she was going to take him down if it was the last thing she ever did.

 

Kellogg's visage flickered in front of her for just a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for her to line her elbow up with his nose as she lunged forward, putting every ounce of momentum into the blow, not caring if she broke her arm from the impact.

 

Scarlet felt the solid mass of his face connecting with her forearm. She heard the thud of his body hitting the floor. She skidded to a stop and turned around, searching the ground for the distorted wavelengths that revealed his location. She aimed her gun at what she thought was him, firing rapidly, but each shot seared harmlessly into the green tile floor.

 

Her head darted back and forth, searching for the faintest trace of him. She grunted in frustration as she realized she had lost him, and was about to return to her companions when she felt a pair of leathery hands come from behind her, clamping down on her neck and cutting off the flow of air into her lungs.

 

Her instincts told her to reach for her throat at the site of the obstruction. And she almost did, were it not for Cait's words of wisdom flashing into her mind.

 

_Roll with it._

 

Scarlet whipped her head up and back, using the force of his own pull and the weight of her body to smash the back of her skull into his face.

 

She had almost knocked herself out from the power of her own blow, but Kellogg instantly released his hold on her neck, groaning in pain. She turned to face her attacker, drawing her gun. His body flickered into view again, longer this time, as his stealth boy was beginning to wear off.

 

She fired three rounds in his direction. At least one of them had hit its mark; a deep growl surged from within him, and the smell of burnt flesh was unmistakable. Trying to avoid having to reload her weapon, she paused, her pistol poised as she waited for him to reveal his location once again.

 

The army of synths was being picked apart one by one. The whines of their laser weapons were fading in the background, and their metal carcasses carpeted the control room floor. A wave of renewed courage surged through her body as she realized that they were winning the battle. It was only a matter of time before Kellogg lost the benefit of his stealth field entirely, and he would have no robotic servants left to protect him.

 

Her senses were heightened to their maximum as she scanned for him. A pair of boots flashed beneath a nearby desk, and a leather-clad arm pointed a magnum in her direction. She zig-zagged forward, dodging his shots as she approached him, her pistol ready to fire as soon as she lined up a clear shot.

 

But she didn't see his invisible leg jutting out in front of her. She waved her arms helplessly through the air as she lost her balance, the tips of her toes striking against his shin. She twisted a little, trying to avoid landing on her face, and took the entirety of the impact on her left shoulder instead.

 

Despite being thrown to the floor, she maintained a steady hold of her pistol. And as Kellogg closed in on her, aiming at her head with his gun in preparation to end her once and for all, he was met by the sight of her own weapon trained on him with terrifying accuracy. His stealth boy had been used up. He was plainly visible and made an easy target for Scarlet as she pulled the trigger, the heated beam ripping its way straight into Kellogg's sinister heart.

 

The magnum in his hand dropped noisily to the floor. He staggered backward, gasping and raking his fingers against his chest, until he had flung himself up against the wall. Kellogg didn't have the strength to support himself any longer. His knees buckled, and he sunk to the floor, his torso barely propped up from the structure behind him.

 

Hancock had seen her fall. He emerged from his cover and ran toward her. There were still a few synths left standing, but he seemed oblivious to the danger and mowed past them, not even bothering to fire his gun.

 

Nick jumped up and took after him, doing his best to kill the remaining synths. They were somewhat easy to pick off being distracted by the ghoul rushing madly through their ranks, and as Piper came to his side to give him back-up, they had all fallen at the hands of Nick's pistol, joining the twisted metal corpses of their brethren.

 

John stooped down to Scarlet, who was still horizontal on the floor. Her gun was shaking in her extended arm, still pointed at Kellogg, who was taking labored breaths as he covered the laser wound with his hand.

 

She didn't take her eyes off the mercenary as John helped her to her feet. She winced at the pain in her left shoulder and attempted to raise her gun. Finding it too weak to be of use, she released the grip from her left hand and let the wounded limb rest, relying on her good arm to steady her aim at Kellogg's head.

 

John, Nick, and Piper stood behind her, watching Scarlet closing in, weapon drawn, and ready to take the justice that she deserved.

 

She stalked over to his prostrate body until she was right in front of him. He looked up at her eyes briefly, managing to smile amidst the agonizing grimace of his face.

 

“You know,” Kellogg spat between pants, “Killing me isn't gonna get you your kid back.”

 

The tight scowl that marred Scarlet's eyes began to soften. She slowly lowered her arm, tears welling to her eyes as the anger and resentment seemed to melt from her tense muscles. Her clenched jaw relaxed and fell open, and her breath pushed steadily and calmly past her parted lips. She looked down at the man with reticent eyes. He would likely die anyway from the fatal shot to his chest. Shooting him in the head wasn't going to make things right. It wasn't going to help her find her son. It wouldn't change what he had already done to her, how he had shattered her world, stripped her of her family, and left her to rot.

 

Her brows relaxed over her eyes. Her expression became placid, and her voice was gentle as it quivered in her throat.

 

“I know,” she said to him, soft and sympathetic. She sighed and lowered her head, letting her laser pistol hang harmlessly against her body. “You're right. It won't bring him back.”

 

Her three companions shared questioning looks, unsure of what to make of her sudden shift. Kellogg leaned his head to the side, his desperate breaths slowing with relief.

 

“But...” Scarlet looked up, meeting his eyes. She re-aimed her pistol at his face, and her body shook with tremors of raw hatred. Her lips curled into a nefarious smile, and she placed her finger over the trigger. “It'll give me the best fucking night's sleep I ever had.”

 

There were five rounds left in her clip, and she shot all of them into his face. The last shreds of consciousness evaporated from his body and he fell over, his body contorting awkwardly against the cold tile floor.

 

No one dared to speak as they watched her take her retribution. Only when she was certain he was no longer breathing did she lower her shaking arm, and she slid her gun back into the holster at her hip.

 

John stepped carefully to her side. He expected her to break down, and he holstered his shotgun in prepared to comfort her. She felt everything so deeply, and it only made sense that now, at the end of this disappointing journey, she would cry, or somehow release the sorrow and frustration that was eating her inside. She had come a long way, pushed herself to her limits, done everything she could to make her mission successful. But it all turned out to be for nothing. He almost wanted to weep for her, knowing that her weeks of searching and preparation might have all been in vain.

 

But Scarlet shrugged her shoulders. She turned around, regarding the three of them with a tranquil sweep of her eyes. “Well,” she said with a half-hearted sigh, “Guess we're gonna have to figure out how to get into the Institute.”


	20. Dangerous Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get angsty.

“Just a minor case of radiation poisoning,” said Dr. Amari, turning off the flashlight she used to examine Scarlet's throat and tucking it into the pocket of her white lab coat. “Mild anemia, headache, nausea, those are the classic symptoms.” She walked over to her cabinet, fishing out an IV bag of radaway. “Did you recently come into contact with a contaminated water source?”

 

Scarlet thought back to their marathon trek across the Commonwealth. After they had dispatched Kellogg and gotten every bit of useful information from Fort Hagen, the four of them journeyed back to Diamond City. It had rained along the way, and although they had taken shelter to avoid getting soaked, they definitely had to wade through some puddles afterward.

 

“Is rainwater irradiated?” she asked.

 

“Not terribly.” The doctor tucked a loose strand of her raven hair behind her ear before taking Scarlet's arm, lining up the needle with a vein in the crook of her elbow.

 

“That's the only thing I can think of,” she said pensively. “We got caught in a storm. We waited until it was over to keep going, but the storm was so heavy that you couldn't walk two feet without landing in a puddle.”

 

“ _That's_ it,” she said emphatically. “Once it hits the ground, it soaks up all the radiation in the soil.”

 

“Hmph. I'm surprised Piper's not sick. She was practically playing in the water.”

 

“Remember, you came from a vault,” she said reproachfully. “It was a completely sterile, radiation-free environment. And you grew up before the bombs fell. Apart from routine x-rays, you've never had any real radiation exposure in your life.” She hung the bag on the pole beside her, ensuring it was flowing steadily into her bloodstream before walking away. “People who grew up out here are more tolerant to the rads they encounter in their everyday environment. They're not as sensitive to the effects.”

 

Scarlet looked at Hancock, who was leaning idly next to her chair. They only spent one night at their residence in Diamond City before returning to Goodneighbor. Piper stayed behind, having the responsibility of looking after her little sister, though she had wanted to go with them to see how things panned out.

 

They checked on Cait as soon as they came back into town. Hancock had charge Fahrenheit with the task of looking after her and keeping her out of trouble. But when he walked up the State House steps and caught them grinding against each other on the couch, he could only smile and shake his head. _I guess that's one way to keep her off psycho_ , he thought. No doubt the two of them had been too busy with each other to worry about getting high.

 

Hancock had tried to convince Scarlet to rest. She was wan and peaked, and looked like she would collapse at any moment ever since they left Fort Hagen. The strain of it all was getting to her. And if she wasn't careful, she was going to end up hurting herself because of her own stubbornness.

 

Nick had insisted that Dr. Amari was the one who could make sense of the cybernetic components they had found in Kellogg's brain. It was possible that the brain augmenter in particular might be able to reveal something about his knowledge of the Institute. Hancock was almost angry at the synth for saying so. Having a new goal to chase after, he knew Scarlet wasn't going to stop until she got the answers she needed. And she would do whatever was necessary at the risk of her own well-being.

 

But they had made it to Goodneighbor in one piece. Though when Scarlet started vomiting shortly after they got home, he insisted that she tend to her medical needs before anything else. _“You can't help your son if you run yourself into the ground,”_ he told her. She complied with his request, and as soon as they woke up that morning, they made visiting Dr. Amari their number one priority.

 

His smiled down at Scarlet. The color already looked like it was returning to her face even though she had just begun her course of the anti-radiation drug. He was relieved that she was getting treatment, and felt much better about continuing their quest to find a way into the Institute.

 

She smirked at him, crossing her arms with some annoyance. “Let me guess,” she teased, “Ghouls aren't affected by radiation.”

 

“Not the same way you smoothskins are,” he grinned. “In minor doses radiation actually makes us stronger, heals us up.”

 

“Hmph. Figures.” She looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, extending a finger with each item she listed. “You can't get irradiated, you can't get sick, you can't die, you have super healing powers, you're more resistant to chems...” she cast a sidelong glance at the ghoul next to her. “What am I forgetting?”

 

“Incredibly good-looking,” he added, leaning his face toward hers. He grabbed the arm that wasn't occupied by the IV and pulled her hand to his lips, laying several kisses upon the back of it.

 

“John!” she said, turning red and looking from side to side. “Not in front of the doctor...”

 

“She's not payin' attention,” he said lowly, rolling his eyes in her direction. Dr. Amari was on the other side of the room and probably didn't even notice their interaction. He leaned into her neck and stole a kiss just beneath her ear, making her shudder and bite her bottom lip.

 

“Stop!” she teased. He chuckled against her neck, finding it cute how shy she was. It was ridiculously easy to get her going, and he couldn't help himself as he showered her with sweet annoyances.

 

“Hope I'm not interrupting,” said Nick, appearing in Dr. Amari's doorway. He arched an eyebrow at the couple, unsure of just how private this doctor's visit was.

 

“You're not interrupting anything, Nick,” Scarlet said assertively, pushing Hancock away from her with a smile. “John's just being inappropriate.”

 

Hancock folded his arms reluctantly in front of his chest, trying to look nonchalant as he leaned against the wall. _You_ are _interrupting. You're_ always _interrupting,_ he wanted to say. But he bit his tongue, and tried not to let his ire show.

 

“I came by to show Dr. Amari those cybernetic pieces we found,” he began, gesturing with the tattered leather briefcase in his hand before stepping cautiously into her office. “Is something wrong?” he asked, nodding to the IV bag that was dripping into Scarlet's veins.

 

“Wolfie's been a little under the weather, if you hadn't noticed,” said Hancock, somewhat tersely. He didn't like that the synth seemed indifferent about her health, and pushed forward with his plans without any regard to her physical or mental state. Nick didn't need to sleep. He didn't have an organic body to worry about. And he dragged her along as if she had his stamina, and she pushed herself to the brink trying to keep up with him.

 

“It's just a minor case of radiation poisoning,” Scarlet said dismissively. She raised an eyebrow suspiciously at Hancock, who she suspected was trying to make it into something bigger than it was.

 

“Sorry if I didn't notice,” said Nick, shrugging his shoulders. “Sometimes I forget about that sort of thing, seeing as I've never had to deal with it myself.”

 

Hancock suppressed the urge to snap at the clueless synth. The bucket of bolts was always so wrapped up in whatever case he was working on that his friends seemed to take a back seat. The ghoul felt responsible for Scarlet's wellness, and Nick made it nearly impossible for her to pause long enough to take proper care of herself.

 

“I know you're tryin' to help, Nicky,” Hancock said with as much civility as he could muster, “But maybe all this can wait for a day or two. Wolfie's been through a lot in the past couple days. Maybe let her rest up before we start stressing her out with this shit.”

 

Scarlet placed a temperate hand against Hancock's arm, gently clutching the fabric of his sleeve. She gave him a broad smile, and her eyes were lively and warm behind the lenses of her glasses. “It's okay, John,” she said softly. It was sweet of him to worry about her. Almost too sweet. She wasn't so fragile that she couldn't handle studying a few pieces of synthetic brain material. In fact, she found the scientific aspect of it pleasantly exciting, even though there was the more serious element of tracking down her son.

 

Hancock reluctantly relaxed his shoulders, sighing in surrender. She had slept well the night before, and she was looking much better. As long as she didn't have to participate in something too physically strenuous, he supposed he'd let her satisfy her curiosity.

 

“What is it you found?” asked Dr. Amari, pacing over to the synth.

 

“Well,” Nick began. He set the briefcase flat on a nearby counter top, then flipped the latch and lifted it open. “This man Kellogg, who worked for the institute, he wasn't a synth. But he was pretty damn close. He was chock full of Institute hardware.”

 

The various bits of machinery that they had found in Kellogg's head were laid out before them, and Dr. Amari leaned over the open briefcase, stroking her chin with intense interest. “Hmm...”

 

“As crazy as it sounds, we need to find a way to get into the Institute. He wasn't going to share any information with us willingly. But I figured you might be able to make use of what he left behind, find out a way to extract the memories somehow.”

 

Scarlet gripped the IV pole nervously as she watched Dr. Amari, who was eying each piece carefully. After a moment, she placed her hands in her pockets, then looked suspiciously at Nick. “So, the man who these parts came from is no longer alive?”

 

“Correct,” he said flatly. “Didn't have much choice in the matter. It was either him or us,” he added, nodding towards Scarlet.

 

“It's true,” she spoke up from the back of the room. “He was the man who kidnapped my son. I told him at gunpoint to answer my questions, but all he'd say was that Shaun was in the Institute. He wouldn't tell us how to get there, or anything useful.” Scarlet's voice cracked a little, swelling with a lingering bitterness.

 

Nick noted the dubious expression on Dr. Amari's face. “I know it's asking for a miracle, Amari,” he said, “but you've pulled off the impossible before.”

 

The doctor frowned and shook her head, turning first to Nick, then Scarlet. “Are you two mad?” she asked, taking on a lecturing tone. “Putting aside the fact that you're asking me to defile a corpse, you do realize that the memory simulators require intact, _living_ brains to function?”

 

“Please,” Scarlet implored, taking every ounce of will not to jump out of her seat and grab Amari by the hands. “Nick told me you're the only one who can make this work.”

 

“This dead brain had inside knowledge of the Institute, Amari,” Nick said somewhat forcefully. “You need this, and so do we.”

 

She crossed her arms and sighed in resignation. “Fine. I'll take a look. But no guarantees.” She turned back to the briefcase, going over the items once more. After a few tense moments, she seemed to hone in on one component in particular. “Wait a minute, what's this?” She tentatively reached down and plucked out the cybernetic augmenter, holding it to her face. “This... this is a hippocampus!” she said triumphantly. “And this thing attached to it... it's a neural interface!”

 

“Those circuits do look awfully familiar,” Nick said cautiously. He appeared to be coming to a conclusion that was none too appealing.

 

“I'm not surprised,” she said, pacing forward while holding the component to the light. “From what I've seen, all Institute technology has a similar architecture. Mr. Valentine is an older generation synth. But, Institute technology being what it is... the brain implant could fit him.”

 

Scarlet raised her eyebrows, darting her eyes back and forth between Nick and Amari. The detective looked somewhat unsure, but nevertheless dipped his head resolutely. The vault-dweller gave him a questioning look. _He's not planning on hooking himself up to that thing, is he?_

 

“But that's an incredible risk to take,” Amari said quickly, cutting through the expectant stillness in the air. “We're talking about wiring something to his brain.”

 

“Don't worry about me, Amari,” said Nick. He continued speaking to the doctor but locked his glowing yellow eyes on Scarlet. “I'm well past the warranty date, anyway.” He smiled and winked in an attempt to reassure her, but her heart surged into her throat. Based on her limited knowledge of Nick's inner workings, this whole thing sounded far too perilous. Swapping software on non-sentient machinery was risky enough. It would open the door for a lot of things to go wrong, not the least of which being a complete override of his current memories and personality.

 

“Are... are you sure about this, Nick?” Scarlet asked timidly. It was akin to a human agreeing to brain surgery on her behalf. It was almost too much for him to go this far for her. She desperately wanted the information on that augmenter, but she couldn't reconcile it with the guilt that overwhelmed her.

 

The synth smiled warmly and tipped his cap to her. “It's alright, doll.”

 

Scarlet looked at him, her eyes wide and shiny with tears. “Thanks, Nick.”

 

Hancock did his best not to scowl. Something about the way he seemed eager to risk his life to help her rubbed him the wrong may. Or maybe it was just the way he called her “doll.” Whatever it was, it made the muscles in his back tense. He was mad at himself for thinking this way. After all, this was all to help Scarlet, all to help her get one step closer to finding Shaun. He should be happy about the synth's willingness to be the guinea pig in this dangerous experiment. But he couldn't get past his own jealousy, no matter how irrational it may be.

 

“You can thank me when we've found your son,” he said simply. He turned back to Amari, nodding at her decisively. “All right. Let's do this.”

 

“Whenever you're ready Mr. Valentine, just sit down.” Dr. Amari motioned for an exam chair that was rolled up against the side of a memory lounger. Flicking out the tails of his trench coat, he sat down, removing his hat to grant the doctor access.

 

“If I start cackling like an old, grizzled, mercenary, pull me out, okay?” He asked over his shoulder with a smirk.

 

Scarlet's eyes were transfixed on Nick as she reached over to grab John's hand. He laced his fingers between hers, gently stroking her skin with his thumb. She was shaking a little, and her pulse was lurching. He did his best to maintain a calming presence, but it only bothered him more, seeing how worried she was for him.

 

“All right, let's see...” Dr. Amari stooped down behind the detective, sliding her fingers to the base of his skull. She pulled back a layer of skin revealing a jumble of circuitry, and brought the synthetic hippocampus up to him, fiddling with some wires in an attempt to connect it.

 

“I need you to keep talking to me, Mr. Valentine,” she said, snapping the piece into an open port in the back of his neck. “Any slight change in your cognitive functions could be dire.”

 

Scarlet tightened her grip on Hancock's hand, watching raptly for any slight nuances in Nick's expression.

 

“Alright, it's connected,” she said, keeping one supportive hand on the component as she stood up straight. “Are you... feeling any different?”

 

Nick's expression was flat, but his golden eyes darted back and forth around the room, focusing on nothing in particular. “I see...” he began, attempting to center himself. “I see flashes. Static. I...” he blinked several times, as if trying to cut through the noise in his head. “I can't make any sense of it, doc.”

 

Dr. Amari sighed audibly, and briskly disconnected the augmenter from the back of Nick's head. “That's what I was afraid of.” She carefully tucked the loose wire back beneath his skin before replacing the flap she had lifted. Then she gave a cursory glance toward Scarlet and Hancock before examining the cybernetic component once more. “The mnemonic impressions are encoded. It appears the Institute has one last failsafe. There's a lock on the memories in the implant.”

 

Scarlet dipped her head in understanding. She had ascertained it wouldn't be as simple as downloading the implant's contents on a terminal, or even using an Institute piece of machinery like Nick to interpret it. She didn't know exactly how to deal with this kind of advanced technology, but she was certain that if she and Dr. Amari put their heads together, they could figure out a way around this.

 

Nick's shoulders rolled with a sudden chill, and Scarlet was all at once terrified that hooking up a foreign entity to his brain had damaged him. “Is Nick okay?”

 

“Yes, his connections stabilized as soon as I removed the implant.”

 

“Don't worry, Scar, I'm alright,” he affirmed, replacing his hat.

 

Scarlet loosened her grip on Hancock's hand, her tension melting into cautious relief.

 

“But that doesn't get around the current problem,” Amari went on. “The memory encryption is too strong for a single mind.”

 

Scarlet's eyes roamed over her office, noting the presence of the two memory loungers in the center of the room. She knew that the doctor had a scientific role in the operation of the memory den in addition to her medical duties. She also knew from their conversations that she was sometimes required to observe a subject's memories directly for her research, hence the second lounger. Scarlet stared with unfocused eyes at them, snapping together her thoughts into one coherent picture that just might work.

 

“What if...” she began hesitantly, looking up at the doctor's pensive face. “What if we used _two_ minds instead of just one?”

 

All three of them turned their heads to look at her. Nick and Amari were instantly curious. Hancock couldn't help but frown, however. He didn't like the implications of what she was saying.

 

“What are you suggesting?” Amari asked, putting a hand on her hip.

 

“You've got two memory loungers, right?” Scarlet stood up, holding fast to the IV pole for support. “You load both me and Nick into the memory loungers. Let me get in there, decode Kellogg's memories.”

 

“I suppose... Run your cognitive functions in parallel...” she looked thoughtfully at the ceiling, then back at Scarlet, appearing satisfied with the idea. “Yes. He'll act as a host while your consciousness drives through whatever memories we can find.”

 

“All right. Let's do it.” Scarlet took a step forward, her face alight with excitement.

 

“Whoa there, Sunshine.” Hancock stood up and placed a gentle hand on her upper arm, pulling her back toward him slightly. “You probably shouldn't be running around in someone else's head just yet.”

 

“That's right,” Amari said, much to Hancock's relief. “You at least need to complete your course of radaway. And it would be best if you had a good night's sleep before we delve into this further. It's going to be a powerful experience. It would be wise to prepare yourself both mentally and physically before the exertion.”

 

Scarlet let out a defeated breath. Amari looked stern and parental, and Hancock's expression was soft with a sweet concern. She knew they were right. She definitely wasn't at one hundred percent, and if she was going to come face-to-face with the memories of her son's kidnapper, she ought to come at it after some kind of repast.

 

“Okay,” she relented. “We'll come back in the morning.”

 

“I'll meet you here then,” said Nick, pushing himself to his feet. “We'll get to the bottom of this somehow.”

 

“I really appreciate everything you're doing, Nick,” she said with a grateful smile.

 

“Hey, I promised you I'd find your son, and that's just what I aim to do. I'm a detective on a hot case,” he said with a grin, “And I ain't gonna stop until it's solved.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Fuck, John, that's it! Fuck me harder!”

 

Scarlet was almost screaming as Hancock plowed her pussy from behind, holding her outstretched arms and pulling her back until she was up off the bed.

 

He wasn't sure what had overtaken her, but he liked it. He rammed into her again and again, his balls slapping against her wet folds, gripping her forearms tight enough to leave a mark.

 

An irrepressible moan dripped from his lips. He was on the verge of losing control, driven to the edge of madness by the way she bucked her hips and pushed her ass against him. And by the sounds she was making, she was almost there, herself.

 

“This how you want it?” he growled through his teeth, going in and out of her sheath like a jackhammer.

 

“Yes... yes...” she choked out between moans. “I'm gonna come...”

 

Hancock released her arms and hooked an elbow around her neck, drawing her up until her body was nearly parallel with his. “That's it,” he whispered, licking her ear. “Come for me. Come all over this big cock.”

 

“Oh god...” Scarlet's pelvis clenched around the swollen shaft within her. She shrieked his name once more as the tidal wave overcame her senses, burying her in the warm sands of ecstasy.

 

He felt every twitch of her insides, and as she bore down on him in time with her orgasm, his own blissful release burst within him, spurting from the head of his cock and bathing her inner walls with his seed.

 

John held onto her with unyielding force as he emptied himself, thrusting deeper with each pulse until he was completely spent. Her powerful contractions slowed and then stopped and he finally released her, letting her limp body collapse face-first onto his bed. He followed her down, laying kiss after kiss upon her damp back before rolling to the side and extending an arm, inviting her to join him in the afterglow.

 

They recovered together in relative silence, smoking a cigarette and grinning their satisfaction.

 

“You see,” she teased, placing a gentle kiss on his scarred cheek. “I'm well enough to do _that_.”

 

“I know, I know,” he replied, still smiling. “But it's doctor's orders. You gotta rest up before you do anything crazy.”

 

Scarlet kissed him warmly on the lips and extinguished her cigarette. She sat up on the edge of the bed and held her hands above her, stretching from side to side. Hancock watched her fondly, enjoying the curve of her waist as it moved along with her.

 

“I am going to run down to the Memory Den real quick though,” she said, standing up and grabbing her jeans off the floor. “Check on Nick. Make sure he's doing okay.”

 

He was a little perturbed as he watched her put on her pants, feeling like he was being abandoned so she could go pal around with the synth. “C'mon,” he said as easily as he could. “I'm sure he'll be fine. Just come back to bed.” He reached out an arm for her, beckoning her back to his side. “You'll see him in the morning.”

 

Scarlet buttoned her jeans and sauntered back to the bed. She smiled and leaned over his body, giving him a peck on the forehead but ignoring his offer. “It'll only take a few minutes,” she said. “I just wanna make sure he's gonna be ready. It'll put my mind at ease.” She plucked her bra from the arm of his sofa and slid it on, clasping it behind her.

 

“I really wish you wouldn't...” Hancock said lowly. He took one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out, replacing the ashtray on the nightstand. He rubbed a tired hand over his face, trying not to reveal his displeasure.

 

But the look on his face was telling. It was obvious that he wasn't just being playful. Something was bothering him. Something to do with Nick.

 

“What's going on with you?” she asked, doing her best to keep her tone affable as she continued getting dressed.

 

“It's nothin',” he said, avoiding her stare. “It's just that...”

 

“Is it something about Nick?” she interjected.

 

“As a matter of fact, it is,” he said gravely, rolling up to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don't like how much time you're spendin' with that old synth.”

 

Scarlet balked and froze where she stood. “Really?” she said with a cocked eyebrow, smiling in spite of the implication of his words.

 

“I dunno,” Hancock said sheepishly, prying his eyes away from hers. “You two have been gettin' pretty close.”

 

Scarlet would have laughed if he didn't look so hurt. She and John hadn't been together all that long, but it was kind of out of character for him to be like this. “Are you... jealous?” she asked, grinning widely. It was kind of flattering, if unwarranted.

 

“Yeah, if I'm bein' honest.” He looked at her with a serious face, stony and unamused by the way she seemed so dismissive about it.

 

“You don't have to worry about him, John,” she said gently. “I'm not attracted to him.”

 

“You might not like him that way, but I don't trust him. I don't like the way he looks at you.” He crossed his arms disdainfully, peering at her with narrowed black eyes.

 

Scarlet noted his frustration. This was obviously something that had been picking at him. While she thought it was pretty childish of him to be jealous of the Detective, she tried not to judge him too harshly. He was a novice when it came to relationships, after all. He probably wasn't used to jealousy, or how to cope with it. But they had committed to one another. He needed to figure out a way to get past the feeling and trust her. She would say whatever she could to pacify his fears, but ultimately, he would have to clear this hurdle himself.

 

“What about the way he looks at me don't you like?” she asked calmly, pulling on her tank top.

 

“It's not all the time,” he began, following her around the room with his eyes. “Sometimes, though, he gets this look, like he knows what you look like without clothes on.” Scarlet tried not to giggle and let him continue. “And do you remember when he first saw you? How he called you _Jenny_?”

 

“He hasn't done it since then. I think he just got his wires crossed.”

 

“I don't know,” he said, unable to hide the sneer on his face. “The way he's been actin' since then, I think it's more than just a wire.”

 

Scarlet maintained her gentle expression as she slipped on her boots. She walked back toward John and looked down at him with a loving smile, bending to bestow a kiss on his frowning lips. “You need to relax John,” she said softly, looking him in the eye and running her fingertips along his jawline. “You can trust me.”

 

“It's not you I don't trust,” he said darkly, recoiling from her touch.

 

Scarlet took a step back from him and crossed her arms. This wasn't like him. It was unsettling the way he pulled away from her. And it was getting annoying, the way he seemed like he wasn't going to let go of the issue. “You've never been jealous before,” she said flatly, trying to use some common sense to break him out of his own head. “You weren't jealous of Cait, and I had sex with her.”

 

“That's cause Cait can't take you away from me,” he snapped. He leaned forward and hung his head, and his fingertips pressed into the mattress. “Nick can.”

 

“What do you mean, 'take me away from you?'” Scarlet scoffed. His imagination was running away with him, and her patience was starting to wane. “He can't just 'steal' me from you, like I'm some kind of object. I'm not a piece of property.”

 

“Is that so?” Hancock's voice was nothing but a rumble as he stood up, closing the distance between them. He wound an arm around her waist and pulled her in sharply, pressing their bodies together with his face just a hair away from hers. “I seem to recall you telling me different.” His lips curled up suggestively as he bathed her mouth with his breath, and his member began to stiffen against her stomach almost instantly.

 

At any other time, Hancock's playfulness would have aroused her. But the way he was behaving now, and the conversation leading up to it, Scarlet wasn't having it. She stepped back from him, wresting herself from his grip and putting her hands on her hips. “No, I'm not,” she said, her face tightening into a scowl. “What we do in the bedroom doesn't necessarily translate into real life, you know. I've got a mind of my own. I don't belong to you or anyone else. You can't just transfer ownership, like a fucking car title. I don't like him that way, and that's the end of it.”

 

Hancock clenched his jaw, eying her indignantly and balling his hands into fists as they hung at his side. “Maybe not now,” he said. “But give it time. If he keeps workin' on ya, it'll be easy enough for you to change your mind and run off with him.”

 

Scarlet squinted at him incredulously. “What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, her voice lowering into a harsh whisper. After everything they had been through together, he really didn't trust her enough to not run off with someone else? It was nothing short of offensive. She told him she loved him. She'd gone to incredible lengths for him. She hadn't left his side since the day they had first set off for Diamond City. She didn't know what else she had to do to prove her loyalty to him. She didn't think she had to.

 

“Well, you've already fucked a ghoul. Not a big leap for you to fuck a synth.”

 

Scarlet's mouth fell open and she quickly raised both hands to cover it. Her eyes widened with shock, and she sucked in a sharp breath through her nostrils as she backed away from him.

 

Hancock regretted the words as soon as they fell out of his mouth. He couldn't believe he had said it either. Immediately, the lines of anger on his disfigured face melted, and he reached out an apologetic hand for her. “Wait, I didn't mean-”

 

“No,” she said. Her hands fell to her sides and her lip trembled, tears beginning to surge behind her eyes. “I think I've heard enough.”

 

Before he could say anything else, she had turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, hastily grabbing her hat from the rack before she slammed the door behind her.

 

And for his part, Hancock could do nothing but stand there, frozen, horrified at his own words, and wishing desperately that he could take them back.


	21. Mnemonic Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down! Oooh....

She wished Hancock had been there, even if it was only to offer a comforting arm. Trudging through Kellogg's memories had been emotionally draining to say the least. But after their argument, she had gone over to Daisy's, crying out her frustration and eventually falling asleep on the ghoul's couch.

 

Although the look on his face before she left had been one of regret, Hancock didn't pursue her. A part of her wanted to be alone to sort out her thoughts, but another part felt dejected by the fact that he hadn't come looking for her. _Maybe he's embarrassed. He should be embarrassed._

 

While his poor choice of words had undoubtedly left their mark, she had forgiven him almost as soon as it happened. He may have been twice her age, but he was emotionally immature. She couldn't hold something like that against him for long. And he had realized his mistake as soon as he made it.

 

But she was glad for the time to cool off. She had hoped he would rendezvous with her and Nick that morning before they entered the memory loungers. She was disappointed when he didn't show, but she soldiered on. They had a job to do, after all. They had to get in the mercenary's head. They had to see just what was left in there, and if it was enough to grant them entry into the Institute.

 

“How are you feeling?” asked Dr. Amari, briefly checking Scarlet's vitals as she sat up in the lounger.

 

“I'm alright,” she said, rubbing her temple with her fingertips. “A little dizzy.”

 

“That's a common side-effect,” she said, placing her stethoscope back around her neck. “Just stay seated for now. It should wear off in a few minutes.”

 

Scarlet put her head in her hands, reflecting on what she had witnessed within Kellogg's mind. They were only fragments, bits and pieces of events. But they were intense memories nonetheless. An abusive father. A paranoid mother. A wife and child. But he had fallen in with a bad crowd. Made bad decisions. Like most of the people out in this unforgiving wasteland, Kellogg was a product of the choices he made. He started out with some shred of hope, a small slice of happiness.

 

But he got in over his head. One mistake lead to another. Before long, he was just another heartless mercenary, doing what he could to survive. Scarlet almost felt sorry for him, after seeing the pieces of humanity and decency in his past. But he had still taken Shaun away from her. Still killed Nate, an innocent man, in cold blood. And she had been forced to relive it through the images in his head. She didn't regret wasting him. And, she had gotten a clue of where to go next after wading through all those memories.

 

“Kellogg came to the Commonwealth to track down a derelict scientist. Brian Virgil. He's in a place called the Glowing Sea.”

 

“The Glowing Sea...” Amari trailed off, pacing over to her cabinet and putting away some equipment.

 

“What is it?” Scarlet asked, summoning her strength and swallowing her nausea enough to raise her head.

 

“It's a dangerous place,” she said solemnly, turning to face her. “Southwest of here is a large area of intense radiation. Around where the bomb detonated in 2077.” Scarlet responded with a sober nod, silently urging her to continue.

 

“It's possible to navigate, but the radiation will kill you very quickly without protection.”

 

“What would you suggest?”

 

“Well, for starters, I would try to get your hands on a hazmat suit of some kind. They're not easy to find. And if you do, it will likely be expensive, or otherwise difficult to obtain.” She paced over to a medical supply box on the counter, opening it as she spoke. “You'll also need to stock up on plenty of Rad-X and Radaway. You're welcome to take what I have here...” she said, motioning to the pill bottles and IV bags in the box. “But you'll probably need to get more.”

 

Scarlet sighed despondently and hung her head. Yet another insane quest she had to go on to get closer to Shaun. Every time she felt like she was getting somewhere, getting closer to some sort of absolution, her hopes were quickly dashed and laid to waste at her feet, replaced by a new, harrowing venture that she was forced to undertake.

 

She looked around briefly, searching for the synth whose brain she had occupied just moments ago. “Where's Nick?”

 

“He's resting upstairs,” she said. Noting Scarlet's brow creasing with worry, she went on. “He's fine. But I want to keep him nearby in case he experiences any after-effects from the implant. There may be a few unwanted traces left over.”

 

Scarlet hoisted herself up out of the lounger, placing a palm on her stomach as it gurgled and churned deep inside her. The experience was unsettling to say the least. And she was that much more stressed due to the fact that John wasn't with her. She wanted to check on Nick and make sure he was alright. But as soon as she was certain of his condition, she resolved to seek out the mayor. As much as she hated herself for it, she felt like a frightened little child without him. Whatever he had said before could be forgotten. All she wanted to do was feel the warmth of his arms around her, rest her head in the hallow of his shoulder.

 

“Thanks for everything, Dr. Amari,” she said, giving her the most grateful smile she could manage. “I'm going to look in on Nick, then go find John.”

 

“Try to take it easy for the rest of the day,” she said. “You've been through a lot. You should focus on recovery before you decide to go back out into the Commonwealth.”

 

“Will do, doctor.” With that, Scarlet bounded up the steps, in search of the Detective.

 

Irma directed her toward a room in the back. Hearing nothing as she approached the door, Scarlet gently pushed it open, revealing the fully-dressed synth laying flat on his back on a dusty mattress.

 

“Nick? You okay?” His eyes were closed. It was strange seeing him this way, almost asleep, as he didn't have the need for it. She didn't really understand why he was laying down, either.

 

“I'm fine, doll,” he said reassuringly, slowly sitting up to greet her.

 

“Please, don't let me bother you.”

 

“Nah, it's alright,” he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Irma told me to lay down. I'm tryin' to do what she asked, but it seems like a waste of time to me.”

 

Scarlet smiled and stepped into the room, letting the door fall closed on the latch behind her. “She's just worried about you, that's all.”

 

“I guess so,” he said. He picked up a pack of cigarettes from the end table and lit one, inhaling deeply. “Oh, sorry, you want one?” he asked her, seeing the plaintive look in her eye.

 

“Yes, please,” she said with a warm smile. He tossed the pack to her and she pulled out a cigarette before sitting down next to him. Leaning in, she allowed him to light it before replacing the pack on the table. “How are you feeling?” she asked, exhaling a heavy cloud of smoke.

 

“Not bad, all things considered,” he said amiably. “Truth be told, I don't remember anything that happened in that lounger. Did you find what you were lookin' for?”

 

“Yeah. Kellogg was here to find a scientist that escaped from the Institute. But he's in the Glowing Sea...”

 

“Ah, that's a pickle.” He ashed his cigarette on the floor, rolling the filtered end in his fingertips thoughtfully. “Guess that's where you're headed next?”

 

“Eventually,” she sighed, examining the dirt under her fingernails. “There's gonna be some things I need before I leave.”

 

“No doubt you'll need some kind of extra protection from the rads,” he said. “If you can get your hands on a suit of Power Armor, that would be the best thing. That'll stave off most of the radiation.”

 

“Power armor huh?” Scarlet paused, taking a drag. “Probably better than a hazmat suit.”

 

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, smoking and chewing over the events of that morning. There wasn't anything more to discuss, really. Scarlet knew what she had to do, and all Nick could do was offer his support. He didn't know more than she did at this point. His expertise had been fully utilized, and from now on, Scarlet surmised, she was on her own.

 

She had finished her cigarette and crushed it out beneath her boot, and was about to leave when she heard something like the crackling of static, and Nick turned to bore into her with his hard, yellow gaze.

 

“Did you find what you were lookin' for inside my head?”

 

Scarlet stood up sharply, making sure she faced him as she processed what he said. It wasn't Nick's voice that spoke to her just then. It was gravelly and sinister, and it echoed robotically in his metallic throat. It was Kellogg.

 

“Nick...?” she said, cautiously backing away from him.

 

“Heh. I was right. Should have killed you while you were on ice.”

 

“K-Kellogg?” she stammered, her trembling hands reaching for her holster. “Is that you?”

 

“What?”

 

All at once, Nick was back.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

With some trepidation, Scarlet let her hand fall to her side. Her guarded stance relaxed, though she was still somewhat uneasy. _What the hell just happened?_

 

“You...” she began, swallowing thickly. “You sounded like Kellogg just then.”

 

“Did I?” Nick snuffed out his cigarette and rubbed his forehead with a frown. “Dr. Amari said there might be some 'mnemonic impressions' left over.”

 

The explanation was sufficient enough for Scarlet, who slumped her shoulders and walked back over to the bed. “Maybe I should stay with you for a little longer.”

 

“Nonsense,” he said. “I'll be fine.”

 

“I insist,” she said, sitting back down beside him. “Besides, it's not like I'm super excited to see John again. We... had an argument yesterday.”

 

Nick turned his head to look at her, studying the profile of her face. Her glasses had slipped down to the tip of her nose. They didn't even look like part of her face anymore. She was all blue eyes and freckles, and he was drawn into her, and leaned in just a little closer, absorbing every detail that he could.

 

“Scar...” he said softly.

 

She turned her head to meet his eyes. They were bright as ever, practically glowing in the dimness of the room. As she studied his expression, she thought it looked like he was searching for something.

 

Without saying another word, he reached up with his naked, skinless hand and grasped the corner of the frames of her glasses. He gently pulled them from her nose, folding the arms and setting them down on the end table next to him.

 

Her brows furrowed in curiosity. _What is he doing?_ She asked inwardly, not knowing what to make of his bizarre shift in behavior. _He's acting like he wants to -_

 

“Jenny,” he exhaled. Before she knew it, Scarlet had been pulled into a passionate embrace, and Nick pressed his cold, silvery lips to hers, closing his eyes and losing himself to the feeling of being locked against her.

 

Scarlet lurched back, but was imprisoned in his steady hold. Her eyes were wide with surprise and her arms were raised awkwardly to the side, caught off guard by what was happening. She sat there for a moment in stunned silence, trying to process the strangeness of his actions, attempting to find the meaning of it.

 

“Nick, I-” she began, speaking as best she could against his lips.

 

“-Jenny,” he said, pulling away from her face while maintaining a vice-like lock around her waist. He gazed reverently into her eyes, raising his robotic hand to her cheek and caressing it tenderly. “I thought I had lost you.”

 

He drew her in for another kiss. Scarlet was unable to push him away, his synthetic strength being far more than she could handle. “I'm not Jenny,” she tried to say, wresting her lips away from his just long enough to get the words out. “I'm-”

 

“Shhh, it's alright, Jenny.” He tightened his hold of Scarlet even more, placing a hand against the back of her head and drawing her in until her face was crushed against his shoulder. “Everything's gonna be okay. We're together again.”

 

Scarlet attempted to struggle, but was practically paralyzed in his arms. She didn't know what was happening, or why, but she tried to scream, tried to talk some sense into him, but her voice came out a muffled blur against his chest. After a minute or two of futile effort, she couldn't help the sobs that welled up inside of her, and hot tears squeezed from her eyelids and soaked into the fabric of his trench coat.

 

“Don't cry Jenny,” he soothed, rubbing his hand along her back. “Now that I've got you, I'm never gonna let you go. Not ever again.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hancock didn't know what to say to redeem himself. Once again, he'd fucked up. Big time. And he didn't have any similar experiences he could draw from in order to find a way to fix it.

 

He hated himself for not showing up to Dr. Amari's that morning. She probably needed him there, if nothing else than to help her through it all. But he was too ashamed to show his face. He didn't even know if he could look her in the eye after what he'd said to her. And he didn't know whether or not she was going to forgive him.

 

But as the day wore on and he had failed to see Scarlet anywhere as he moseyed around Goodneighbor, he bit the bullet and made his way into the memory den. He wasn't sure how long going through Kellogg's memories was supposed to take. But it was afternoon now, and the longing he felt for her overrode any reticence he had left.

 

He was surprised to see Dr. Amari's office completely empty, save for Amari herself, who was busy examining something under a microscope.

 

“Hey, doc,” he said, stepping carefully through her doorway. He looked around, as if to make sure that Scarlet and Nick were truly absent.

 

“Mr. Hancock. I expected to see you here this morning,” she said, not looking up from her work.

 

“I uh-” he began, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I had somethin' to take care of. Where's Wolfie?”

 

At this, the doctor sat back in her chair, turning around and casting a quizzical look at the ghoul. “She hasn't been here for hours,” she said, suppressing the barest hint of alarm in her voice.

 

Hancock was almost knocked over from her admission. _If she's not here..._

 

“Did she say where she was goin'?” he asked urgently.

 

“She headed upstairs to check on Mr. Valentine,” she said, her voice slightly shaking. “Then she said she was going to go find you...”

 

Hancock needed no other prompt. He bolted up the stairs, back into the main room of the memory lounge.

 

Irma was in her characteristic pose on the chaise lounge when she saw Hancock whirling around to face her. She quickly sat upright, taken aback by the suddenness of his entry and the hand he had gripped around the butt of his shotgun.

 

“Where' Nick?” he growled, his dark eyes shadowed beneath his brows.

 

Irma could hardly speak. She placed a shaking hand to her chest, as if to steady herself. “In- in the back...” she choked out, her words strangled between the sharpness of her breaths.

 

Hancock didn't bother to say anything else. He tore down the back hallway of the Memory Den, kicking open every door and aiming his shotgun, ready to put the synth down with a slug to the face when he found him.

 

And then he saw them. Nick was standing in the center of the room, holding Scarlet tightly around the waist. Her head was laid against his shoulder and was turned away from the door, but it snapped back and pivoted to face Hancock as soon as she heard him burst in.

 

At first he didn't know what to make of the scene in front of him. Initially, his blood boiled, examining the loving way Nick held her in his arms. But Scarlet's face was twisted with fear. Her arms were up protectively against his chest, and her eyes, stripped of their glasses, were red from crying. This wasn't something she had wanted. And the way the synth tightened his grip, he could tell that she was trying to get away, but having no success in doing so.

 

“Get your hands off of her, you fuckin' robot!” yelled the ghoul, glaring furiously down his sights.

 

Nick stared daggers at Hancock, pulling one hand away from the girl in order to hover it over the pistol in his holster. “Who the hell are you?”

 

Hancock didn't seem phased by the question. Instead he tightened his grip on his weapon, his white teeth flashing in his grimacing mouth. “You let Scarlet go right now or I'll -”

 

“John!” she interrupted, her voice trembling along with the rest of her. “It's me. It's _Jenny_.”

 

The ghoul lowered his gun just enough to peer at her through suspicious eyes. _What the fuck is she talking about?_

 

“Are you one of Eddie's guys?” Nick barked at him, sliding his pistol gingerly from his holster and training it on the ghoul's face. “Back away right now, if you know what's good for you.”

 

Hancock raised his shotgun once more in kind, gritting his teeth and glowering down the barrel.

 

“Boys, boys!” Scarlet chimed in, raising a defensive arm in front of Nick. “There's no need to fight. Nicky?” she said, gazing up at the Detective, who refused to look away from the mayor. “This is just my... cousin. John.”

 

“What's that babe?” asked Nick, one corner of his mouth turning down, still stubbornly refusing to look at her. “What do you mean, 'your cousin?' I never heard of him before.”

 

“Well I haven't spoken to him in years. But now, since we're getting married, I wanted to invite him to the wedding. Is that okay?”

 

Scarlet shot her eyes at Hancock. _“Please,”_ she mouthed to him, begging him with her stare to go along with whatever she was doing.

 

He didn't understand what was going on. But he knew going toe to toe with Nick was a dangerous endeavor. And if Scarlet had some insight that was going to get her out of this, he was willing to comply, no matter how badly he wanted to simply shoot the synth in the chest.

 

“Yeah...” he said warily, lowering his gun. He slowly moved it back to his holster, hoping that Scarlet knew what she was doing. “I'm her cousin. Right... Jenny?” The name was forced from his lips and he struggled not to bite his tongue. It was just as he had feared. He didn't know enough about Nick's past to know who Jenny was. But he remembered the way he looked at her when they showed up to rescue him in vault 114. He remembered that he had called her “Jenny.” He tried to write it off. He tried to look past it, to take Scarlet's word as well as Nick's that it was all just faulty programming, and that there wouldn't be any consequences that sprang from it.

 

But deep in his gut, Hancock knew something wasn't right. And now it all made sense. The way Nick had combed her with that penetrating stare of his, the way he fidgeted and shuddered at various points when he spoke to her. It wasn't innocent. It wasn't just a quirk in his programming. Something had overtaken the old synth, a force that was beyond logic, that nullified whatever sense of rationality that was inherent in his software.

 

“Well,” said Nick, cautiously pointing his pistol back into his holster. “Alright. Sorry about that, uh, John. We'd be happy to have you come to the wedding.” He forced a smile as he stowed his pistol, then wrapped his arm back around Scarlet protectively.

 

“You know somethin' babe?” he asked softly, looking down at the terrified woman in his arms. “I don't wanna wait until June to get married. Let's go to the courthouse right now.”

 

Hancock nearly exploded with rage as Nick stooped his head, landing a crushing kiss on Scarlet's tightly pursed lips. Her eyes sealed shut as if to protect her from the invasion, and it took all of his self-control not to intervene.

 

“But Nicky,” Scarlet said, her voice coated with honey as he pulled away from her. “I want all of our family and friends to be there. Can't we wait?”

 

Nick shook his head back and forth once before lifting a hand to her face. “No, Jenny. I can't go one more day without being married to you.”

 

Scarlet didn't know what to say. Hancock watched her tensely as she smiled up at the Detective. But she bit her lip nervously, and he could tell she was racking her brain for a solution, something to get herself out of the mess she was in without raising Nick's suspicion. He was obviously too lost in his own mind to process the reality of things. Any sensible explanation would only anger him further, and Hancock found himself frightened at the prospect, imagining the synth's superhuman strength crushing Scarlet in his arms.

 

“Okay then, we'll go to the courthouse,” Scarlet relented, never tearing her eyes away from his. “But... I'm not feeling well. Do you think we can go to the doctor first?”

 

Hancock curled his fingers into a fist, tensely awaiting Nick's response. _If we can get him to Dr. Amari, maybe she can figure out how to fix him..._ he thought.

 

“What's wrong, babe? Are you sick?” he asked. It was more concern than Hancock had ever seen from the Detective before.

 

“I'll be okay, I just... need some medicine.” Scarlet coughed lightly into her hand. “I've got this tickle in my throat.”

 

“Can it wait 'til after the wedding?” he asked, placing a tight hand around her shoulder.

 

“The doctor's just downstairs, sweetie,” Scarlet said with an entreating smile. “It'll only take a minute.”

 

Nick looked down at the woman in his arms, the woman he so earnestly believed was his beloved Jenny. He wanted so badly to whisk her away, to take her off into the sunset, to leave Boston behind him as a distant memory. He didn't care about the case, anymore. He didn't care about Eddie Winter, or any of his thugs. All he cared about was her, the sweet, irresistible young woman who had stolen his heart, who enlivened his soul, who made him feel like he was on top of the world. Something had happened to her a long time ago. She had been taken from him, savagely ripped from his arms and left in the dirt. Left to rot. And now she was back. He couldn't let her go, not now. Not when he had finally been reunited with her after so many years.

 

He looked deep into her eyes. A muted hint of sunlight made its way through the curtained window, catching her blue irises and making them shine. But the more he stared, the more he focused on those shimmering orbs, the more uncertain he became. Something was amiss. She was hiding something... he wasn't sure what, but there was a veil that separated them. She was covering something up. Why had she chosen to come back now, so many years later, after he had thought she was dead? He had seen her shot in the back by Eddie's men. He watched her body fall lifelessly to the pavement. He had wept over her dead body, holding it in his arms, feeling the weight of her being pulled to the ground like a rag doll.

 

It couldn't be her... It couldn't really be Jenny. As much as he wanted it to be true, there was no possibility of her ever coming back from death. He could rationalize it to himself any way he wanted to. But there was no hope.

 

But his heart was wrestling with his mind. _It has to be her. This is definitely her, my girl, the woman I love._ _The way she feels in my arms. The way she looks at me. Those eyes..._

 

But as he swept over her face, he noticed something else in her eyes. Something he hadn't seen before. Maybe it was a reflection, or a trick of the light. But in them, he saw a flash of yellow, a glimpse of silver, and was struck by the realization that the woman he was looking at was not who he thought it was. Those weren't her eyes.

 

She was an impostor.

 

Nick looked like he was going to lose his mind just then. His face hardened in anger, looking like a petulant child who had just been cheated out of a game. Suddenly, he raised his hands and pushed Scarlet away from him, his synth strength sending her flying back against the wall. He snarled under his crinkled nose, drawing his pistol and pointing it at her chest, placing his skinless finger against the trigger and readying to shoot.

 

“You're not Jenny,” he growled.

 

Scarlet closed her eyes, preparing herself for the inevitable pain of the bullet that would tear into her flesh.

 

But it wasn't a pistol she heard crashing into the silence. It was a shotgun.

 

Scarlet's eyes slowly peeled open. Nick's pistol landed with a clunk on the wooden floor, and he grabbed at the hole that tore through his robotic skin, revealing a mess of sparking wires and circuits. His mouth went agape, and wordlessly, the synth fell to his knees, rendered incapacitated by the wound in his side.

 

Scarlet looked over at Hancock. The end of his shotgun smoked from the expulsion of the bullet, and he gasped for breath as he looked down at where his mark had hit. As he watched Nick's body fall to the ground, he turned to her, lowering his weapon and staring back at her, his eyes full of a combination of alleviation and regret for what he had just done.

 

As Nick's body crumpled and finally went limp before her, a heavy sob ripped its way out of her chest. She flung herself into Hancock's arms, grabbing him around the neck and burying her face in his undershirt. She wailed uncontrollably as Irma and Dr. Amari burst into the room, drawn by the sound of the gunshot.

 

He put his weapon back in his holster and held Scarlet to him, clinging to the fabric of the jacket on her back. Mournfully, he honed in on the synth's body, cursing himself for what Nick had forced him to do. _I'm sorry, Nicky,_ he said to himself, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to bubble their way out of him. _I'm sorry for everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!!! About to wrap this baby up.


	22. Once in a Lifetime

“Are you sure you have to go? I could really use your help in the Glowing Sea.”

 

Scarlet didn't want Nick to leave. After days of intense surgery and repairs, undertaken by both Dr. Amari and herself, she didn't like the idea of him darting off into the ruins. She and Hancock were hand-in-hand in front of him as he stood in before Goodneighbor's front door, his hands in his pockets, cracking a bittersweet smile to the both of them.

 

“With this ghoul by your side, you're gonna have all the help you need,” Nick said, nodding toward Hancock.

 

The mayor couldn't suppress the smile that crept over his face. He gripped Scarlet's hand just a little tighter, unwittingly pierced by the emotional nature of the synth's departure.

 

“You sure you don't need anything else before you go?” Hancock implored him. He still felt guilty for blasting Nick in the side. He had genuinely thought he was dead when it happened. Although the synth had made a full recovery, and although the circumstances of the shooting had been defensive in nature, he was still remorseful about how everything had gone down.

 

“I'm good,” he answered. “Got everything I need.”

 

“Do you need our help?” Scarlet asked, brimming with concern. “We can come with you, if you want.”

 

Nick shook his head resolutely. “Nah, doll. This is something I'm gonna have to do on my own.” He reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette, squinting against the midday sun as he lit it. “Operation Winter's End was the reason the original Nick Valentine came to Boston. And it was because of the case that Jenny got killed.” He paused, adjusting his fedora. “If I'm gonna get rid of these thoughts, I gotta get some closure. Find the man responsible for her death. Track him down, and bring him to justice.”

 

Nick blamed his unfinished mission for the way he had acted out. Dr. Amari thought it may have also had something to do with the piece of Kellogg's brain she had connected to him. Either way, there wasn't an easy fix to the problem. It wasn't a simple matter of “crossed wires” as they had all originally thought. There was a ghost that haunted his memory, and it had been haunting him since Jenny's death more than 200 years ago.

 

While he was under the knife, he admitted everything. He reluctantly told them about the thoughts he had been having since they pulled him out of the vault, how Scarlet had looked just like Nick's fiancee, and how his memories were triggered every time she took off her glasses. The way he had been behaving over the past few weeks all made sense now. Scarlet was quick to forgive him for what he had done. It was achingly sweet, after all; the way Nick described his long-lost love, it made her heart melt in sympathy. It was beautifully tragic, and she only wished that she could somehow do more for him.

 

“Do you know where to start looking for him?” she asked.

 

“I know he's got a bunker somewhere in the Commonwealth. If I recall, he left clues to its location and the access code hidden in several holotapes. If I search the local police stations, I should be able to find them in the evidence lockers.”

 

Scarlet nodded, tears beginning to collect along her bottom lids. “You promise you'll come back to see us after you're done?” she asked with a sniffle.

 

“Hey now,” Nick chuckled. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you cared about this rusty old synth. Like maybe you see me as more than just a robot.”

 

Scarlet laughed, wiping away her tears. “Guess I have a conscience after all,” she said lightly.

 

“You always had one, Scar,” he said matter-of-factly. “You just didn't know what to make of me, that's all. It's okay. Most people still hate me even after they get to know me, just because of what I am.”

 

“That's true,” said Hancock with a smirk. “I've known him for years and I still think he's a worthless pile of circuits.”

 

“That's alright. I don't really care what an irradiated chem addict thinks of me, anyways,” Nick jibed.

 

The two men shared a knowing smile. Scarlet could tell that their bond ran deeper than what they would admit to. Their banter was just a way to conceal something more meaningful between them. But that was the way men were, she supposed. Rather than sharing their feelings, they preferred to trade insults. It was kind of endearing, in its own way. And by the way they looked at each other, she knew that they were parting as friends, in spite of everything that had happened.

 

They all stood silently for a moment, listening to the wind rustling through the holes in the town's gate, stretching the moment, staving off Nick's inevitable departure. None of them wanted to part ways. But it was understood that he had to leave. He had a good reason. And although Scarlet inwardly mourned his loss, she knew deep in her gut that it would be temporary, and that one day she would see him again.

 

“There is...” Nick began cautiously, looking down at his feet. “There is one favor I want to ask you before I leave, though. With the permission of both of you, of course.”

 

“What is it?” Scarlet let go of Hancock's hand, clasping the two of hers together and holding them to her face with anticipation.

 

“I wanted to know... that is...” Nick raised his eyes from his feet, shifting his gaze between the woman and the ghoul in front of him. “I want to say good-bye to Jenny one last time. One last kiss before I go.”

 

Hancock took a deep breath through his gaping nostrils as he considered Nick's request. Scarlet just stood there with a blank look on her face, both flattered and stunned by his proposal.

 

Nick quickly gauged their reactions. Seeing that neither of them looked too keen about the idea, he swiftly withdrew his request. “Never mind,” he said, before either of them could respond. “It's a little too much. I'm sorry.”

 

“No,” Scarlet said sharply, stepping forward. She approached Nick until she was just a few inches in front of him, then looked over her shoulder to Hancock. “It's not too much, is it, John?”

 

He could tell her question was rhetorical. No matter how jealous he was, no matter how much he didn't like it, Scarlet was her own woman. He couldn't control her, couldn't tell her what to do. And they way she looked at him then, with those large, glassy eyes of hers, he couldn't tell her no even if he wanted to.

 

And he didn't want to. Because even after everything that happened, after the fight between him and Scarlet, after his confrontation with Nick, after the synth had pulled a gun on her and nearly squeezed the trigger, he understood. Hancock knew for the first time in his life what it meant to love someone, and to love them so much that you could lose your mind. If anything ever happened to Scarlet... he shuddered at the thought. He would be driven to his own heights of madness. He wouldn't be able to let it go no matter how many centuries passed. He knew that if given the opportunity, by whatever miracle happened to make it so, if she perished, he would jump at the opportunity to be with her again, even if it was just for a fleeting moment in time. If Nick loved Jenny even half as much as he loved Scarlet, he wasn't going to stand in the way of that small shred of happiness that remained, no matter how much of an illusion it might be.

 

He nodded his head simply at her. He wasn't jealous. He didn't feel threatened. He knew what the gesture meant to Nick, and he knew that Scarlet understood.

 

She turned back to the synth, leveling her eyes with his. Carefully, she removed the glasses from her face, folding them and tucking an arm into the neck of her shirt. She looked at him now without any barrier between them, soft and ready, gazing adoringly into his yellow eyes as he searched hers.

 

There was a flicker behind that golden glare of his as he took in the sight of her face. Jenny had come back one last time. She was there to say good-bye. He didn't have the opportunity before. But now he could. He could finally begin to let her go, let her memory rest, as he looked into her eyes one last time.

 

He raised a metallic hand to her cheek. The coolness of his touch startled her briefly, but Scarlet didn't hesitate, closing her eyes and leaning her face into his bare, skeletal palm. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her in, pressing her chest against his, before bending his neck to capture her lips sweetly in his.

 

Scarlet leaned into his embrace and met his kiss with equal fervor. He tugged against her chin with his thumb, beckoning her to open her mouth. She complied without a second thought, opening up to receive his surprisingly soft synthetic tongue as it swept over her own.

 

Scarlet's leg popped up unconsciously. And, as if following the script of an old film, Nick swung her body to the side and dipped her, supporting her back with his hand as he pulsed against her lips.

 

“Alright, alright, that's enough,” said Hancock, stepping forward and putting a gentle yet threatening hand on Nick's shoulder. The synth slowly pulled her back to her feet, breaking their kiss with a yearning, far-away look.

 

Scarlet took a few unsteady steps back, having been momentarily overtaken by his passion. She almost had to catch her breath as Hancock put his arm around her shoulder, somewhat possessive, but still smiling at the Detective.

 

She slid her glasses back on as Nick fell out of his trance. He clasped together a couple of buttons on the front of his trench coat, then pulled the brim of his hat down over his head. “Well then, I guess this is good-bye,” he said.

 

Hancock rubbed Scarlet's back as she burst into tears, heavy sobs rolling out of her as she buried her face in her hands. “Take care of yourself, Nick,” he said.

 

“Will do.”

 

With nothing more than a tip of his hat, the Detective took his leave, slipping out of the front gate like a shadow, the door falling closed softly behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“How you feelin', Sunshine?”

 

Hancock poked his head into their bedroom door, seeing Scarlet laid out quietly on the mattress. She didn't have the deep breath of slumber, but she looked like she wanted to rest. After Valentine left Goodneihbor, she had complained that she was still feeling symptoms of radiation poisoning. She wanted to go back to the doctor, maybe get another course of radaway. No doubt it had failed to cleanse everything from her system the first time around.

 

Hancock had excused himself from her then. He had things to take care of around town. He promised he would meet her back at home later when his business had been settled, ready to dedicate the rest of his evening to spending time with her.

 

The sun had set about an hour ago when he came back. Scarlet turned her head to the side, regarding his presence with a small smile. “I'm feeling okay,” she said quietly.

 

Hancock leaned casually against the door frame, waiting patiently as she stirred and finally sat up. “Listen, if you're feelin' up to it, there's somethin' I wanna show ya.”

 

“Oh really?” she said, smirking at him incredulously.

 

“Nothin' like that,” he chuckled. “There's a spot here in the State House that I haven't shown you. I was wonderin' if you wanted to come with me and check it out.”

 

Scarlet arched an eybrow. “Okay...” she said cautiously.

 

“I'm serious,” he said, approaching her with his hand extended. “I promise, I'm not gonna drug you this time.”

 

Scarlet chuckled as she took hold of his hand. He pulled her tired body out of bed and guided her as she followed him, up another flight of stairs, over to the window on the third floor that perched just above the State House balcony.

 

Just behind the window in the center of the room, a length of rope was draped over one of the wooden rafters in the ceiling. Hancock jumped up to grab it. As he yanked it down, a panel of the ceiling came away and a ladder folded out from beneath it, leading to the apex of the roof and creating an open portal to the starry night above them.

 

They carefully ascended, Hancock pausing to help her along as she climbed the rickety old rungs. When he got to the top, he turned around and reached out with both hands, offering her help up as she crawled onto the State House rooftop.

 

Scarlet's mouth fell open as she took it all in. Even though she had been on top of the warehouse on more than one occasion, and it was much higher than the three-story State House, she had never noticed the little square platform before. It was rather small, being just wide enough to fit the two of them comfortably, and the edge was surrounded by a short iron railing that went just up to their knees.

 

The lights had to have been a new addition, though. Strung between each of the iron bars was a line of colored Christmas lights, snaking around and connecting through some odd crack in the roof. She definitely would have noticed these if they had been there before.

 

As Hancock pulled her to her feet beside him, she got a sudden hit of vertigo, feeling exposed by both the height and the lack of a suitable railing to hold on to. “Here, sit down,” he said. He took a knee and grasped both of her hands, ushering for her to sit in front of him. “You've got a great view of Goodneighbor from up here.”

 

Scarlet scanned the streets below as she settled in. The voices of the townsfolk drifted up to them and blended into an indistinguishable jumble, but the noise was almost soothing, echoing softly against the moonlit facades of the buildings that surrounded them. The moon was nearly full and blazed in the blackness of the night sky, drowning out many of the surrounding stars. But the ones she did see shone brilliantly, flickering like snowflakes in the air.

 

“You want a drink?” he asked, removing a small bottle of liquor from his pocket. The faded label was difficult to read, but she could tell it was some kind of high-end scotch, probably worth a lot of money back before the war.

 

He twisted off the cap and held it out to her with a smile. She shook her head and smiled warmly back at him. “That's okay. You go ahead.”

 

It seemed for a moment that he was disappointed, but he shrugged his shoulders and took a gulp before capping the bottle, then set it down next to him. He dug into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes and took out two of them, holding the filtered ends firmly between his lips as he lit them. He handed one to Scarlet, who took it half-heartedly, giving it a small puff before letting it dangle in her fingertips.

 

“You sure you're alright, Sunshine?” he asked, lines of worry creasing his scarred forehead.

 

“I'm fine,” she said, smiling broadly at him. “Just tired is all.”

 

“Here then.” Hancock sat with his legs apart and spread his arms, inviting her to lay back into him. She settled herself between his legs and leaned her back against his chest while he wrapped his arms around her, supporting her weight completely as her head came to rest beneath his chin. “That better?”

 

“Mhmm...” she said softly, nestling into his coat. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of worn leather and tobacco that clung to him.

 

They sat there for a while, looking from the streets to the sky as they finished their cigarettes. Scarlet felt so cozy in his arms. And as she looked up and over her shoulder and into his black eyes, a peaceful warmth enveloped her, making her wish she could stay this way forever, up above the turbulent wasteland below them, away from all the cares and troubles that chased her.

 

“Hey, uh, listen...” he began, shifting a little where he sat. “There's somethin' I wanna ask you.”

 

“Oh?” Scarlet sat up and turned around, just enough so that she could comfortably look into his eyes. She met him with a bright smile, but he bit his bottom lip nervously in response. Scarlet frowned slightly at the uncomfortable look on his face. His expression was shifty and unsettling, and he tapped his fingers against his leg.

 

“What's wrong?” she asked quickly, sensing something wasn't right.

 

“Nothin's wrong,” he said, his voice heavy with reassurance. “I just...”

 

Hancock lowered his eyes. He reached into his pocket with his right hand, pulling out its contents with a heavy sigh. It was a box, but a box so small Scarlet wondered could possibly fit inside of it. But as he flipped open the top, and the moonlight made its way inside, she put a hand to her mouth, nearly reeling back in total shock as he held it out to her.

 

It was a ring. Even in the darkness, she could see the blood-red hue of the ovular gem in the center, and the sparkle of tiny diamonds that circled it. The band was an untarnished shade of silver, probably white gold. And as the blinding rays of the moon danced over its surface, it almost radiated its own aura, glowing and shimmering against the box that contained it.

 

“Listen,” he said, as if to cut her off before she could speak. Though at that moment, she was so flabbergasted she had to remind herself to breathe. “I know things didn't work out so well the first time around. It wasn't somethin' you wanted to do. You did it because you had to. I get that. But if you wanna try again, maybe...” he paused, locking onto her eyes. “Maybe you can settle down with me?”

 

Scarlet looked at the ring, then back at him. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, so hard and fast she thought it would burst through her ribcage. Her hand was still fixed over her mouth, and her jaw hung open so wide it could have fallen right off of her face.

 

“It can be on your terms,” he went on. “You can make your own decisions. I won't keep you from livin' your life. I just want to be a part of it, for as long as you'll have me.”

 

A surge of tears spilled onto her cheeks, and a sob welled into her throat. The hand on her face began to tremble uncontrollably, and a small squeak pushed its way out of her throat into her palm.

 

“Will you marry me, Sunshine?”

 

Whatever willpower she had to keep her emotions in check, it had dissolved by this point. Scarlet wept openly, tears pouring like rivers from her eyes, as she pulled her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, tucking her chin to her chest and shielding herself with her legs.

 

Hancock stared at her, puzzled by her reaction, but undeterred. “What's wrong?” he asked gently.

 

Scarlet simply shook her head, trying to quiet her rolling sobs by burying her face in between her knees.

 

It looked like she was too overwhelmed to speak. “Is it... is it that I'm gonna live a lot longer than you?” he offered. Barring a response, he went on. “'Cause I've thought about it. And if you wanna talk about it we can, but it doesn't bother me. I still wanna marry you.”

 

Scarlet's head shook from side to side as she continued crying, rocking herself back and forth as if to comfort herself.

 

 _Is she saying no?_ He wondered. He knew Scarlet could be emotional, and he knew that when he asked her, she would probably cry. But she sounded upset. And her closed-off body language tied his stomach into a knot. She hadn't said anything yet. Only shook her head. Maybe she was trying to tell him no, being unable to get the words out.

 

 _But why would she say no?_ He asked himself. He knew that putting himself out there like this was a gamble for a number of reasons. They hadn't known each other for very long, just a couple of months. And Scarlet was still trying to orient herself in the post-war era. And she had been married previously, and her former husband had met his sorry end just before they met.

 

Admittedly, they had engaged in a few heated arguments, but had always come out alright on the other end. Rationally speaking, it may have been a long shot. And yet, he was so confident that she would say yes. Confident enough to arrange procuring a ring from one of Tommy Lonegan's shady contacts. Confident enough to spend a fortune on it. Confident enough to ignore what everyone around him said, disregard his own sense of logic, and ask her.

 

They were head over heels for each other. Hancock may have been new to relationships, but he wasn't oblivious to the way they felt about each other. He loved her more than he ever thought it was possible to love another human being. And if she even felt a little bit of what he felt for her, there was no way she could deny his request.

 

“What is it, Scarlet?” he asked her, becoming more serious.

 

She simply shook her head again, glancing up at him only briefly before hiding her eyes from his once more.

 

“Are you saying no?”

 

He reached out and grabbed one of her hands, trying to snap her out of her daze and get a straight response. Scarlet looked up, her eyes bleary and her face soaked with tears. “John...” she whispered, trying and failing to meet his eyes. “I can't...”

 

Her voice trailed off into nothing. Hancock felt like he was being whacked in the head with a baseball bat. _She_ is _saying no._

 

But why? Why wouldn't she? He loved this woman beyond anything else. How could she reject him? What could he possibly do to change her mind?

 

“Just tell me, what do I have to say to get you to say yes?” His voice rose earnestly, and he almost begged her as he went on. “What do I have to do? I'll do anything for you, you know that.” He scooted toward her, placing a hand lovingly against her cheek, smearing away her teardrops with his thumb. “I'll do anything you want. Just name it and I'll do it.” He pushed his way past her defenses, sitting up on his knees and leaning his forehead against hers. “Anything you want, it's yours. Just name it and I'll give it to you. Please Scarlet...” A lone tear spilled from the corner of one of Hancock's coal black eyes. “I'd kill for you. I'd die for you.”

 

Scarlet's guilt only grew and manifested into louder sobs when she saw that tear falling down his face. It was the first time she had ever seen him cry. And it was because of her.

 

“I want to, John,” she said, her breaths ragged and scraping against her throat. “But... I can't.”

 

“What do you mean?” he asked, seizing her by the wrists. He jerked her sharply, forcing her to face him. “What do you mean, you can't?” He wanted to understand. But he was angry, too. Angry that she was denying him. He had given her all of himself, laid his soul on the line, ripped open his chest and handed her his heart on a silver platter. The least she could do was give him a straight answer. Tell him why. He deserved to know that much.

 

Scarlet's body went limp. She crashed forward, hurling her face into the safety of his broad chest, clinging to him fiercely as she wailed into him. “I can't!” She lifted her lips away from his body just enough to force the words out, and they fell like an avalanche against him, crushing him with a mixture of rage and despair.

 

“Why?” Hancock grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back, insistent on getting the truth out of her. “Why won't you?” He didn't want to sound harsh, but it undoubtedly came out that way as he bored into her, both imploring and demanding an explanation.

 

Scarlet sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. She took several deep breaths, doing the best she could to look him in the eye. It was too much. She loved him so voraciously that it set her heart on fire. She almost died of happiness when he asked her. But she couldn't do it. As badly as she wanted to say yes and leap into his arms, she knew it wouldn't be right. Not now. Not after she found out...

 

“John...” she whispered. She finally met his eyes, keeping them straight and focused, only blinking once or twice to clear her remaining tears. He looked back at her with so much love and hope that she almost broke down again. But she kept herself together. She had to keep it together, at least long enough to tell him.

 

“John... I'm pregnant.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww, snap! Thanks for reading, gonna take a break before I start part three.


	23. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I gear up to write part three, I finished an epilogue I started some months ago wrapping up the events from the last chapter. Please be gentle with your criticism as I get back into the swing of writing again.

Chapter 1

 

_“_ _I'm pregnant, John.”_

 

Scarlet was inconsolable.

 

For two days, she had done little else but lay in bed, weeping into her pillow, hardly bothering to eat or drink. Hancock tried his best to offer his support. While he attempted dutifully to respect her request for privacy, he couldn't help but look in on her. He sat at the edge of the bed, running his hand along her back as she recovered from a recent bout of tears. And only after she fell asleep did he dare to venture in and lay beside her, carefully crawling into bed lest he disturb what little rest she could obtain.

 

When Scarlet had revealed to him that she was pregnant just a few nights ago, his initial reaction had been one of pure shock. But it quickly melted into elation as he realized what it meant for the two of them, smiling while he proudly held out the engagement ring in his hands.

 

_“We're... we're gonna have a baby?”_

 

His words were more painful than a knife to the heart.

 

_“It's not yours, John,”_ she had said, doing whatever she could to avoid his eyes. He was too happy, too hopeful. She was gutted by his readiness to not only forgive her, but to embrace the idea as if it had been his all along.

 

_“I know that, Sunshine,”_ he had said with an affable smile. _“It doesn't matter to me._ _”_

 

_“But it matters to me, John.”_

 

Hancock had already revealed to her that he was incapable of having a child, as was the fate of all ghouls. In light of this fact, she was left with two possibilities as to the father of her baby: MacCready, who had been nothing more than a one night stand, and who had left the Commonwealth to look after his own family, or Winlock, her rapist, the man who had kidnapped her, and who would have killed her had Hancock not come to her rescue.

 

Neither one of these options was agreeable to her. Winlock, apart from being a remorseless mercenary who had made her suffer, was dead. If it was his, the child would never be able to know their father. And Scarlet would never be able to look at their face without being forced to relive the horror that had produced them.

 

MacCready was a decent man. He had shown her kindness when she needed it, and although their relationship had gotten off to a rocky start, they had parted as friends. But he had a child of his own already, and was given the unenviable task of having to raise him without a mother. He wouldn't have time to be a father to another child, being raised hundreds of miles away. It wasn't realistic. And if it was his, she felt like he deserved to know, but simply telling him would create a whole new host of challenges. No doubt he would probably try to relocate to the Commonwealth, his young son in tow, and try to work things out with Scarlet so that they could bring up their family together.

 

But she didn't love MacCready. At least not enough to start a family with him.

 

John unselfishly jumped at the opportunity to raise her child, no matter who the father might be. Or maybe it was a selfish desire, after all. This was the closest he would ever come to having children of his own. His own childhood had been plagued with sorrow, and with a newborn, he would have the opportunity to love and cherish and do all the things he had missed out on when he was growing up. He could live vicariously through that infant, giving it the life he always wanted for himself.

 

_“_ _I'm not going to keep it, John.”_

 

It didn't matter who the father was. She had a baby already. Or a ten-year-old, if she believed what Kellogg had said. Either way, she couldn't reconcile bringing a brand new life into the world when she was struggling to save the one she had already created. If she had another child now, finding Shaun would be all but impossible. There was no way she could take care of a helpless newborn while she trekked across the wasteland in search of answers. Especially considering the next step in her quest: The Glowing Sea. Who knows what kind of defects and abnormalities would befall the unborn life within her as she ventured through the irradiated landscape.

 

_“_ _Whatever you decide to do, Sunshine, you know I'll be there.”_

 

His steadfast devotion only made her feel more disgraced. She didn't deserve this kind of unconditional love, not after this betrayal. In her wildest dreams, she could never have imagined herself in the predicament she found herself in now, pregnant with questionable paternity, receiving a proposal of marriage from a man who was not the father, and ultimately deciding to terminate her pregnancy.

 

Hancock had put the ring back in his pocket. Even though he was inwardly dying of anticipation, going over and over what he could say to convince Scarlet to marry him, he knew that now wasn't the time. The trials she was facing took precedence, whether or not he believed them to be relevant to that matter. He had asked her to marry him because he loved her, regardless of the circumstances, regardless of the past, and regardless of what they might have to overcome in the future. Whatever they were up against, they would face it together. His proposal was a pledge to stand by her, ready to conquer the obstacles in her path at her side.

 

She may have felt compelled to say no to him now. He understood why, though he disagreed. But he would ask her again. He would keep the ring with him, ready to slip it onto her finger as soon as the right time came. There would never be another one like her. He could live another thousand years and never see her like again. And he wasn't going to give up so easily. He would ask her a hundred times if necessary. But one day, he resolved, he would get her to say yes.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“It's early enough that we can abort the fetus non-surgically.”

 

Dr. Amari placed a hand on Scarlet's abdomen, pressing against her hardening uterus. The vault-dweller was laid out on her examination table, listening to the doctor going over her options. John had begged to accompany her to the appointment. She almost gave into him, knowing that his sole ambition would be to comfort her through the process, and that he would respectfully leave any difficult choices up to her.

 

But she had to endure this alone. It was her punishment, her burden to bear. Hancock deserved no part in this sickening tragedy that had befallen her.

 

“You mean, like, with chems?” Scarlet asked nervously.

 

“There are concoctions we can make with pre-war medical technology that serve this purpose.” Amari motioned for her to scoot forward, and sat down on a stool between Scarlet's splayed legs to examine her. “However, there is a preparation using common herbs found in the Commonwealth that I believe is a much cheaper and much safer alternative.”

 

“We'll go with that, then,” Scarlet said flatly, cringing a little as she felt the doctor's cold, gloved fingers sliding into her.

 

“I'll have it ready for you by this evening. Once you take it, expect to begin bleeding eight hours later, and plan accordingly.” Dr. Amari twisted her fingers inside Scarlet, putting firm pressure against various points of her inner walls. Once Amari had assessed it to her satisfaction, she unceremoniously pulled her fingers back out, causing Scarlet to jump a little in her skin from the sudden retreat. “Well then, everything looks normal.”

 

“Is this... a routine procedure out here?” she asked with a gulp.

 

“It's fairly common, yes.” The doctor stood up, peeling the gloves from her hands with a snap. “Especially in a place like Goodneighbor. Drug addiction, a transient lifestyle, lack of financial stability, there are numerous reasons the women of this town would want to end their pregnancies. I would say that the majority of them use protection, but when that fails, this is usually the quickest and least intrusive option.”

 

Scarlet nervously curled her fingers around the edge of the bed sheet the doctor had draped over her naked bottom. “Does it bother you, the fact that they... do this so much?”

 

“I'm a physician, Ms. Wolf,” she said, casually discarding her gloves in the wastebasket and walking back to her side. “It's not my place to judge their choices. My job is to support and inform, educate them on their options so that they can make a medical decision for themselves.” She slipped one of her hands underneath Scarlet's shoulder, motioning for her to sit up. “Only you can decide whether or not the potential life inside you is worth taking the risk.”

 

Scarlet chewed her bottom lip, staring at her feet dangling over the side of the examination table. She fumbled with her fingers, revealing the tumult that was going on inside of her mind. Her thoughts raced in circles, going over and over the same questions she had been asking herself for days now. _Is this what I want? Is this right? Does this make me a bad person? Can I ever forgive myself?_

 

“I will say this,” Dr. Amari continued, folding her arms and turning her back, allowing Scarlet some privacy to put her clothing back on. “It's not a popular choice in most other areas of the Commonwealth. Fertility problems are much more prevalent now than they were in your time. Many women, and men for that matter, see it as a moral duty to repopulate when they have the opportunity. The stigma is so great, in fact, that I get patients coming from miles around, because they know they won't be persecuted here.”

 

Scarlet snapped the button on her jeans and slipped her arms into the sleeves of her flannel. “Maybe I _should_ have it,” she mumbled to herself. “Maybe I'm being selfish, not doing my part to continue the species.”

 

“Hmph. You certainly have a more rational outlook about it than most.” Scarlet cleared her throat, signaling that Dr. Amari could turn back around. “If you want to keep it, that's your decision, as well. I'm not going to try to convince you one way or the other. I will say, at this point in your pregnancy, everything appears to be healthy and normal. Medically, I don't have any reason to discourage you, should you wish to carry to term.”

 

Scarlet nodded her head slowly, her eyes roaming listlessly around the office as she fastened, then unfastened the top button of her shirt. _I wish someone would just make this decision for me..._

 

Seeing that her patient was lost in thought, she went on, attempting to wrap things up as amiably as she could. “I'll go ahead and prepare the abortive for you.”

 

She winced inwardly at the word. _Abortive..._

 

“It just needs to steep. Come back around six o'clock. It should be ready for you then. If you need a few more days to think it over, I can hold onto it for 48 hours before it loses its effectiveness. Should I fail to see you within that time, I'd urge you to make a follow-up visit, so we can look at your options moving forward.”

 

_48 hours._ She knew that it wasn't necessarily a hard deadline, but she was grateful that Amari had given her some sense of urgency. There wasn't any point in delaying things, one way or the other. She resolved to come to a conclusion in that time, putting the matter to rest so that she could focus on the future.

 

Scarlet smiled warmly at the doctor, and collected her laser pistol and her holster in her arms. “Thanks, Dr. Amari.” She exited her office in silence, her feet moving slowly and methodically, carrying her out of the Memory Den and into the streets of Goodneighbor.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Scarlet bolted up in bed, fumbling for her glasses and squinting into the soft green light of her Pip-Boy.

 

Two a.m. Like clockwork.

 

A mercilessly tight cramp burned deep within her guts, and she wrapped an arm around herself as a grimace overtook her features. It was so intense that despite her best efforts, a moan worked its way from her throat and hummed quietly behind her lips. She glanced down at her side. Hancock was dead asleep, his chest rising and falling perceptively in the blackness.

 

Scarlet hadn't disclosed the details of her visit to the doctor. Hancock gently broached the subject, but she was purposely vague with her reply, much to his chagrin. She had a bad habit of suppressing her negative emotions, and he knew that she was unlikely to open up. Still, he wanted her to know that he was there if she needed him, at the very least. But she was stubborn, he knew, so he let it go, hoping she would reach out to him if she truly needed him.

 

But her shame and regret wouldn't allow her to use him as an emotional crutch. She was determined to endure this trial alone. Aside from not wanting to burden him, she truly felt unworthy of compassion.

 

Scarlet slipped out of bed as noiselessly as she could. She snatched a dimly burning oil lamp from the dresser. Then, throwing a threadbare blanket around her shoulders against the early morning chill, she crept out of the bedroom, gritting her teeth as she made her way to the bathroom.

 

Contractions came intermittently while she sat on the toilet. They were strong but bearable, and she was able to ride through them with only the occasional muted grunt of pain. But as her core involuntarily strained with each wave, there was as yet not even a drop of blood to show for her efforts. Her plan had been to sneak back into bed in the morning before Hancock was any the wiser. Not having gone through this before, however, she wasn't sure exactly how long the process would take. She silently prayed that it would be over with quickly, if only to spare John from having to watch her suffer.

 

After over an hour and half of pushing, trying to help her body along as best she could, her legs were beginning to fall asleep. Scarlet didn't want to make a mess; it wasn't as if cleaning supplies were close at hand. And it wouldn't support her desire for secrecy if she left the State House bathroom looking like a slaughterhouse floor. But as the tingling in her legs grew in intensity, she knew she couldn't remain where she was.

 

She squinted into the dimness of her surroundings. There weren't exactly a lot of options. She examined the grimy clawfoot tub across from her. All of the plumbing in the State House was operational, as far as she knew. While the irradiated water made its original function useless, it would be easy enough to rinse the aftermath down the drain. And while the thought of resting her bare buttocks against two centuries of rusty filth was unappealing to say the least, at least she could recline, waiting out the event in a feasible way.

 

Scarlet shimmied out of the tattered boxers she was wearing and crawled inside. It was like ice against her bare skin as she settled in, and the surface was gritty like sandpaper. She shivered both from the cold and disgust and held the blanket tightly across her chest.

 

Just as the first warm trickle of blood began to seep from between her legs, the slamming of doors and raucous laughter could be heard coming from downstairs.

 

_Fuck, who the hell is it at this hour?_

 

As two sets of boots began ascending the State House steps and the voices grew louder, it became apparent that it was Cait and Fahrenheit, likely coming back from another late night at the rail.

 

Scarlet gripped the edges of the bathtub and her toes curled reflexively. Now that she had started bleeding, it wasn't as if she were able to get up. And this was the only bathroom on the second floor, where Cait and Fahrenheit shared a bedroom.

 

Scarlet shut her eyes and hoped that the two would stumble into bed, but as the footsteps grew closer and Cait's drunken slurring became more audible, she knew she would have no such luck.

 

The bathroom door swung open and the doorknob smacked against the wall. Scarlet started at the sound and looked up. Cait's lips were locked against Fahrenheit's, and she tore herself away from them with a wimper as she backed up into the bathroom.

 

“I gotta take a piss, darlin', you just wait right there.”

 

“You'd better not keep me waiting too long,” the strawberry blonde answered with a sarcastic pout.

 

“Just hold on!” Cait giggled. She wrested out of Fahrenheit's grip around her waist and reached for the doorknob, pulling it shut with one more quick peck on the lips.

 

Scarlet watched in wide-eyed silence as Cait sat down on the toilet. Her hazy eyes were cast downward, and she didn't seem to notice the redhead sitting in the bathtub as she began relieving herself with a sigh.

 

It was almost black except for the faint light of Scarlet's oil lamp. She held her breath. Maybe she'd be too drunk to notice her.

 

But as a wave of pain began rippling through her abdomen, a soft squeak issued from her constrained vocal chords. In the relative silence, it was enough to give her away.

 

“What the-”

 

Cait's head lolled to the side, then up, looking for the source of the noise. Scarlet swallowed thickly as their eyes met, sucking a hard breath through her nostrils.

 

“What the hell are ya doin' in the bathtub, Wolfie?”

 

The strange sight appeared to sober her up a little as she finished urinating. Cait stood up with a grunt and pulled up her pants, studying Scarlet with a curious expression. For her part, the vault-dweller couldn't think of anything to say, and simply continued staring at the woman blankly, her icy fingertips pressing into the sides of the tub.

 

“Am I just completely drunk off me arse, or are ya really there?” The Irish girl stumbled forward, hunched over and squinting into the dimness. Scarlet pressed her knees together in an attempt to hide herself from Cait's prying, but a dark streak stood out against the stained porcelain, and even in the dark, it was clearly visible.

 

A deep laugh echoed against the bathroom walls as Cait tried to make sense of what she was seeing. “The fuck is this? Is this what vaulties do when they get their period?”

 

“Please, just go to bed,” Scarlet whispered, averting her eyes. She didn't want to accidentally wake John with all the yelling. He was a pretty light sleeper, and no doubt if he woke up, he'd be immediately concerned by the fact that she was missing from their bed.

 

“You alright there, Wolfie?” Cait asked, so loud she could have woken up all of Goodneighbor. The young woman craned her head forward, looking into the bathtub, then back at Scarlet. She was drunk, but with it enough to realize something out of the ordinary was going on.

 

“I'm fine,” she answered softly with a reassuring smile. But it was quickly replaced with a wince as her uterus contracted, sending another pulse of pain shooting through her core.

 

“Oh, fuck...” Cait's eyes widened and she stood up straight. She began slowly backing away from the bathtub. “Heya, Fahr!” she shouted over her shoulder. “I think you oughtta get that ghoul outta bed!”

 

“Please!” Scarlet lurched sideways from the tub and latched onto Cait's wrist. “Don't wake him up!”

 

But it was already too late.

 

“Any of you ladies seen -”

 

Hancock nudged the bathroom door open and stood in the doorway. He was wearing nothing but his red coat and a pair of long underwear. As he processed what he was looking at, his sleep-covered eyes were suddenly jolted wide open, and his jaw hung so low it almost rested against his sternum.

 

“Sunshine...?”

 

Scarlet released her hold on Cait and sat back in the tub, trying her best to put on a calm and affable face as he approached her. “It's alright, John. Go back to bed.”

 

But as he stood over her and saw the stream of blood issuing from beneath her, he couldn't control the panic that overcame him. “Oh my god...” Hancock dropped to one knee, clasping a hand upon her shoulder. “Quit standing around and go get the doctor!” he yelled at Cait, snapping his head over to her briefly before turning his worried gaze back to Scarlet.

 

“No, John,” she began. She tried to level her eyes with him, but was struggling to keep her composure against the tightness in her gut.

 

Cait took a few more steps back and Fahrenheit leaned in the doorway, but they were glued into place, dumbstruck by what was going on.

 

Hancock was having none of it. He lurched to his feet and turned around, glaring at the two drunk women in front of him. “Are you deaf?!” he shouted. “I said go get the doc. Now!”

 

“John...” Scarlet tugged at the hem of his coat. Her contraction was beginning to ebb. She leaned back and sighed in relief as the pain abated. The ghoul looked down at her solemn face. Tears glittered in her entreating eyes, and her lower lip quivered as she spoke. “I think the doctor already knows about this.”

 

Cait and Fahrenheit stared at each other awkwardly as the realization sunk in. Scarlet could almost see John's heart sinking into his stomach as her words hit him. The situation was glaringly obvious. And in the face of it, nobody could think of what to say.

 

“Sunshine...” Hancock's mournful voice broke the silence. He took her hand, grasping her chilly fingers in the warmth of his palm as he knelt down at her side. Fahrenheit motioned for Cait, and the two women stumbled off quietly, leaving John and Scarlet alone as they shut the door behind them.

 

Scarlet rested her head against her shoulder as she looked into his large black eyes. She chewed on her lower lip, wondering what he was thinking as he stared back at her. She was having difficulty reading him. He looked worried to be sure, but she silently pondered whether or not he was upset, or even angry with her. She hadn't told him about her decision. She knew she would have to eventually tell him, but she had wanted to spare him this, the arduous procedure of actually terminating her pregnancy. He had been so excited, so hopeful when she told him, that she was certain he would be disappointed.

 

His calloused hand reached out to her face, tucking her lengthening hair behind her ear, then he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Why didn't you tell me?”

 

Hancock's woeful utterance was like a stake being driven into her heart. She reached over and laid her hand against his arm as the tears in her eyes welled and spilled onto her cheeks. “I'm sorry...” she whispered, her words breaking as she buried her face into his palm.

 

“Hey, hey...” he soothed, leaning in and pulling her head into his chest. She wept quietly against his bare skin for a few moments while he stroked her hair, doing his best to comfort her while allowing the reality of what was happening to sink in. He knew that this was likely how things were going to end up. Even so, he had at least expected her to keep him informed. He hadn't anticipated awakening to find her gone, then hunkered down in a bathtub, bleeding and laboring alone in the early morning hours. But then again, since she had told him, she had barely spoken to him, kept him at arm's length as she cried and wrestled with herself over her predicament.

 

But she had to have known that he wouldn't want her to go through this alone.

 

Her sobs began to slow and her breaths evened out, pulsing warmly against his naked chest. “Dr. Amari gave me something to get rid of it,” she finally said. “I figured I would be done before you woke up. I just...” Scarlet pulled away, sniffling as she leaned back and looked over his distraught features. “I just didn't want to worry you.”

 

“Well I was worried when I woke up and saw you weren't there,” he said, the comfort of his words laced with disapproval.

 

“I know, I know,” she said, looking away.

 

He shuffled forward and draped one arm around her shoulder, reaching out with the other to take her hand in his. “I'm not mad at you, Sunshine. I just wish you woulda said somethin'.”

 

Scarlet nodded wordlessly. Slowly she turned back to him, her chest rising and falling placidly as she leaned her neck against the edge of the tub. “I just want it to be over. I just wanna forget about it, pretend like it never happened.”

 

“Don't worry, Sunshine. It'll all be over soon enough.”

 

Just then, Scarlet's eyes squinted shut. She leaned forward, tucking her knees to her chest. A strangled groan pushed its way out of her throat and smashed behind her closed lips. Her free hand clasped the edge of the bathtub until her knuckles turned white, and the other gripped Hancock's palm ferociously.

 

“Fuck, you alright?” he stooped his head to examine her face and rubbed his hand along her back. She was obviously in a lot of pain, but he wasn't sure what level of it was normal, and his ignorance only exacerbated his concern.

 

“It's okay...” she managed to choke out. She gave him a sideways glance and attempted a smile despite her distress, trying to put him at ease. “It's... kind of like giving birth. It's gonna hurt.”

 

“You want some med-ex?”

 

Scarlet shook her head, the air whistling in and out of her nose. “Nah, I'll be fine.”

 

Hancock pressed his lips together and tried not to argue with her. It was clear she was hurting. She was stubborn to a fault though, and it frustrated him to no end. Seeing her like this was misery. If there was anything he could do to stop it, he would. He felt responsible for her well-being, her health, her happiness, and felt that it was his sacred duty to uphold them. But he couldn't give her help if she didn't want it, no matter how irate her refusal made him.

 

Admittedly, Scarlet thought med-ex sounded pretty appealing at the moment. Each contraction was escalating, burning and aching with increasing magnitude at each pass. But this was her punishment. She needed to feel it, needed the affliction, to endure this torment in its fullness and without anything obscuring her agony. She deserved to suffer.

 

Hancock waited tensely for her to ride it out, the muscles in his back finally relaxing as she loosened her hold of his hand. She had been chilly before, but the effort was immense, and beads of sweat began gathering on her brow.

 

She sighed with exquisite relief as she leaned back again. The wrinkles in her forehead had smoothed out. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she stared at him with a ribald smirk, or as much of one as she could manage. “So, you still wanna marry me?”

 

He chortled, returning her smile with a self-assured grin of his own. “Ya know,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “Here I was, thinking I'd have to work for months to wear you down.”

 

The ring caught the faint light as he held it up, glinting and glimmering as if it were on fire. He grinned unabashedly and almost laughed out loud in spite of everything, being unexpectedly overcome with raw joy.

 

He had been holding onto her left hand. She removed it gently from his hold and held it up, smiling broadly back at him. It was trembling slightly, and he held her by the wrist to steady it while he slid the ring onto her finger.

 

The fit was impeccable. The band was snug, but not too tight, and the diamond-encircled ruby was perched proudly upright. Scarlet stretched out her arm and cocked her head to the side, taking a moment to admire the way it shone against her skin, and the way it paired so perfectly with the strip of flag that already hugged her wrist.

 

“It looks good on you.” He was beaming so brightly his face almost emitted its own glow. It wasn't exactly the way he had imagined things, but it was nonetheless perfect. It didn't really matter when or where she said yes. All he really wanted was for her to say it, whether it was on the State House rooftop, or half-naked and bleeding in a bathtub at five in the morning. “So you'll marry me, then?”

 

Scarlet shifted her gaze back to him, meeting him with a smile just as warm and endearing as his own. “Of course I will.”

 

Hancock thought he would have burst if he weren't contained by his own skin. The sorrow and strangeness of their present circumstances melted away, and all he knew right then was the elation of his swelling heart that pounded wildly within him.

 

“I'm sorry I didn't say yes before,” she said dolefully, though still sporting a toothy grin.

 

“It's alright,” he said, reclaiming her hand and enveloping it in both of his. “You're saying it now. That's all that matters.”

 

The two of them stared at each other adoringly for a few minutes, lost in their happiness and the peace that came from the early morning. But their repast was short-lived. Scarlet's face contorted into a frightening grimace. She exhaled a hiss between her clenched teeth, trying to suppress the cry of agony that attempted to bubble from her chest.

 

Hancock could do nothing but hold her hand as she leaned forward, her body straining and pushing, every muscle rigid while she struggled to breathe through it. She felt as if her insides were ripping in half. It was almost as painful as giving birth, if she were being honest with herself. She felt the surge of blood and tissue that expelled between her thighs, but by the way the contraction was continuing, she knew it wasn't the last of it.

 

The agony continued to build and stretch. Whether it was ten seconds or several minutes she had no way of knowing, but it felt to her like an eternity. It went on for so long that she finally began to break. “I'll take some med-ex...” she grunted.

 

The ghoul needed no further encouragement. He promptly stood and placed a kiss on her damp forehead before turning on his heel and leaving. Scarlet was still in the throes of agony when he returned shortly with a syringe and an elastic band. “Just hold on a little longer.” He retook his position down at her side as he tied the band around her bicep, laying her forearm against the edge of the bathtub. “How much do you want?” he asked, pressing his thumb into her skin in search of a vein.

 

“All of it,” she said breathlessly.

 

She could feel the sting of the needle as it entered. As he slowly pushed down on the plunger, a tingling warmth began to spread up her arm, into her chest, down her spine, and into her core, completely nullifying the searing pangs that racked the lower half of her body. The tenseness of her muscles melted until they were nothing but goo, and she practically collapsed where she sat, an alleviated breath falling from her relaxing jaw.

 

Hancock's relief was just as complete as he watched her. He let out his own grateful sigh, contented by the fact that she had finally asked for help. Wiping away the sweat that was trickling down her temple, he worked his arm underneath her neck, giving her something other than the hard porcelain to rest upon.

 

“Is that better?”

 

“Yes,” she said, managing a smile. “Much better.” She took a few minutes to catch her breath before opening her eyes, which were glassy from the medication as she looked at him. “I was wondering...”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You said something about how...” Scarlet stopped, swallowing dryly before going on. “...how I'm gonna die before you do.”

 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I'm a ghoul, remember?” He said with a lighthearted smile. “Unless I get eaten by a mirelurk, I'm probably gonna be around for a few more centuries at least after you're gone.”

 

Scarlet nodded and rolled her head back, her eyelids slowly beginning to shut. “So you're still sure you wanna marry me?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, it's gonna be pretty shitty, losing you. But it'll be worth it.”

 

“What're you gonna do when I'm gone?”

 

“I got a coupla options. One is, after you go, and you're layin' in your grave, I'll just lay down right next to ya. Get real high. Let the chems take me. It'll be a fun way to go, at least.”

 

Scarlet chuckled but kept her eyes closed. “That's terribly romantic of you, John,” she said, her head moving languidly from one side to the other, “but it seems like such a waste.”

 

“Well that's one option. The other one is, I can stick around and look after Shaun. Or since he'll probably have kids by then, I can look after them.”

 

Scarlet smiled and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “And when they're gone?”

 

“Then I'll watch out for their kids, and their kids' kids. As long as I'm around. If I can't be with you, I'll settle for being with your DNA.”

 

“Jesus Christ, John.” Scarlet hit his arm with the back of her hand, inadvertently poking him with her engagement ring. “I wouldn't expect you to go _that_ far.”

 

“Meh, it's the least I can do,” he said dismissively.

 

“I had no idea you were such a hopeless romantic.”

 

Hancock chuckled. “Trust me, neither did I.”

 

Even though she was numb to the pain, Scarlet still felt something coming out of her. She summoned her strength to sit up long enough to see it – a softball-sized ball of blood clots and tissue, falling out of her and rolling onto the foul surface of the porcelain. She was high enough that the shock of it was dulled, and she did little more than knit her eyebrows as she collapsed back against Hancock's arm. “Fuck...” she groaned.

 

“Don't worry,” he said, stroking the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb. “We'll get you all cleaned up.”

 

The blue light of dawn was beginning to seep through the bathroom's frosted window. It seemed that the majority of the bleeding, at least, was over. Hancock remained with her, looking after her attentively and studying the pattern of her breaths while she processed her thoughts through her med-ex induced stupor. A long, but comfortable silence passed while the light steadily grew.

 

“John,” she finally said, just as the blue began to brighten into a warm gold, “Do you think I did the right thing?”

 

“I don't think my opinion matters that much, Sunshine.”

 

“I know, it just... it seemed like you were excited and I... I don't know,” she mumbled. “Maybe I should have sucked it up and had the baby. Should have done my job and been a mother.”

 

“If you really wanna know what I think,” he began, “I think you're already doing your job. You're already a mother. You've got a kid out there that needs you. For what it's worth, if I were in your position, I would have done the same thing.”

 

“Hmm.” She nodded her head and took another deep breath, laying a hand across her stomach. As much as she dreaded all of it, and as much guilt as she felt going into it, now that everything was said and done, she was surprisingly composed and tranquil about her decision. _It_ was _the right thing to do,_ she said to herself. And she didn't say it because she felt the need to convince herself that she had done the right thing to assuage her guilt. Scarlet knew what John said was right. Having a baby would have meant risking the safety of the child she already had for her own selfishness. Shaun still needed her. Adding a dependent life was just another liability that stood between her and her son. Regardless of what John wanted, or even what she wanted, Shaun's needs came first. Nothing was going to stop her from saving him. This unexpected pregnancy was just another bump in the road. She would move on from it like she had from every other roadblock that had come before her up until that point. No matter what the wasteland threw at her, she would come out victorious on the other end. She had no other choice.

 

Slowly, she blinked her eyes open against the morning sunlight. She gazed at the man next to her, who still held her hand tightly as he had done throughout the night. The pressure of his grip enhanced the feeling of the new ring that adorned her finger. If she hadn't been so high on med-ex, she would have told him what he meant to her, told him how much she loved him, how he made living in this post-war nightmare not only bearable but wonderful, and how he was the reason she had made it this far, how he had made seeing her child again an attainable possibility. She would indeed see Shaun again, with his help. Never again would she fear wandering the wasteland alone. He would be there with her. He had pledged himself to her, and she would do the same for him, and now, truly, she could do it without any regrets.

**Author's Note:**

> https://tarafirmafic.tumblr.com/
> 
> 18+ NSFW


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